Uni\j$5rsity  of  California. 

^T  i  |^f  i^*"\ 

v     ^r 
Alexander  Del  Man\ 


A  TREATISE 


POLITICAL  ECONOMY; 

TO  WHICH  IS  PREFIXED 
A  SUPPLEMENT  TO  A  PRECEDING  WORK  ON  THE  UNDERSTANDING, 

012  ELEMENTS  OF  IDEOLOGY-. 

WITH  AN 

ANALYTICAL  TABLE, 

AND  AN 

INTRODUCTION  ON  THE  FACULTY  OF  THE  WILL. 

BY  THE  COUNT  DESTUTT  TRACY, 

MEMBER  OF  THE  SENATE  AND  INSTITUTE  OF  FRANCE,  AND  OF  THB  AMERICAN 
PHILOSOPHICAL  SOCIETY. 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  UNPUBLISHED  FRENCH  ORIGINAL. 


,   .    '.  .  ^^  , 


JUIB 

<;A/JFO     v 


GEOKGETOWN,  D 

PUBLISHED    BY   JOSEPH 


1817. 

\V.  A,  Bind  &  Co,  Printers 


Diitrict  of  Cofamlna,  t  o  wit : 

IT)  E  it  remembered*  that,  on  the  fifteenth  day  of  March,  in  the  forty-first  year  of  the 
t  )    Independence  of  the  United  States  of  America,  Joseph  Milligan,  of  the  said  Dis- 
trict has  deposited  in  this  o'^cf  the  title  of  a  Book,  the  right  whereof  he  claims  as 
t  Proprietor,  in  the  words  following  to  wit : 

"A  Treatise  t,n  Political  Economy;  to  which  is  prefixed  a  supplement  to  a  preceding  work  on  the 
"  Understanding,  or  Elements  of  Ideology ;  with  an  Analytical  Table,  and  an  Introduction  on 
"  the  Faculty  of  the  Will.  By  the  Count  Destutt  Tracy,  Member  of  the  Senate,  and  Institute 
"of  Fra>«ct,  and  of  the  American  Philosophical  Society.  Translated  from  the  unpublished 
"  French  original." 

In  conformity  to  the  Act  of  the  Congress  of  the  United  States,  entitled  "  An  Act  for  the 
"  encouragement  of  learnii  .g,  by  s ;  'curing  the  copies  of  Maps,  Charts,  and  Books,  to  the  Authors  and 
"  Prour  jeturs  of  such  copies,  during  the  times  thrrcii>  mentioned." 

G.  DENEAIJE,  Clerk  of  the  District  of  Columbia. 


MONTICELLO,  October  Zd,  1818; 

SIR, 

I  now  return  you,  according  to  promise? 
the  translation  of  M.  Destutt  Tracy's  Treatise  on 
Political  Economy,  which  I  have  carefully  revised 
and  corrected.    The  numerous  corrections  of  sense 
in  the  translation,  have  necessarily  destroyed  uni- 
formity of  style,  so  that  all  I  may  say  on  that  sub- 
ject is  that  the  sense  of  the  author  is  every  where 
now  faithfully  expressed.     It  would  be  difficult  to 
do  justice,  in  any  translation,  to  the  style  of  the 
original,  in  which  no  word  is  unnecessary,  no 
word  can  be  changed  for  the  better,  and  severity 
of  logic  results  in  that  brevity,  to  which  we  wish 
all  science  reduced.     The  merit  of  this  ivork  will, 
I  hope,  place  it  in  the  hands  of  every  reader  in  our 
country.     By  diffusing  sound  principles  of  Politi- 
cal Economy,  it  will  protect  the  public  industry 
from  the  parasite  institutions  now  consuming  it, 
and  lead  us  to  that  just  and  regular  distribution  of 
the  public  burthens  from  which  we  have  sometimes 
strayed.     It  goes  forth  therefore  with  my  hearty 
prayers,  that  while  the  Review  of  Montesquieu,  by 
the  same  author,  is  made  with  us  the  elementary 
book  of  instruction  in  the  principles  of  civil  go- 
vernment, so  the  present  work  may  be  in  the  parti- 
cular branch  of  Political  Economy. 

THOMAS  JEFFERSON 

MR.    MlLLIGAN. 


LI  I!  l\  A 


4 


PROSPECTUS. 

POLITICAL  ECONOMY,  in  modern  times,  assumed 
the  form  of  a  regular  science,  first  in  the  hands  of 
the  political  sect  in  France,  called  the  Economists. 
They  made  it  a  branch  only  of  a  comprehensive  sys- 
tem, on  the  natural  order  of  Societies.  Quesnia 
first,  Gournay,  Le  Trosne,  Turgot,  &  Dupont  de 
Nemours,  the  enlightened,  philanthropic,  and  venera- 
ble citizen  now  of  the  United  States,  led  the  way  in 
these  developements,  and  gave  to  our  enquiries  the 
direction  they  have  since  observed.  Many  sound 
and  valuable  principles,  established  by  them,,  have 
received  the  sanction  of  general  approbation.  Some, 
as  in  the  infancy  of  a  science,  might  be  expected, 
have  been  brought  into  question,  and  have  furnished 
occasion  for  much  discussion ;  their  opinions  on  pro- 
duction, and  on  the  proper  subjects  of  taxation,  have 
been  particularly  controverted;  and  whatever  may 
be  the  merit  of  their  principles  of  taxation,  it  is  not 
wonderful  they  have  not  prevailed,  not  on  the  ques- 
tioned score  of  correctness,  but  because  not  accepta- 
ble to  the  people,  whose  will  must  be  the  supreme 
law.  Taxation  is,  in  fact,  the  most  difficult  func- 
tion of  government,  and  that  against  which,  their  ci- 
tizens are  most  apt  to  be  refractory.  The  general 
aim  is,  therefore,  to  adopt  the  mode  most  consonant 
with  the  circumstances  and  sentiments  of  the  coun- 
try. 


IV 

Adam  Smith,  iirst  in  England,  published  a  ration- 
al and  systematic  work  on  Political  Economy ; 
adopting  generally  the  ground  of  the  Economists, 
but  differing  oil  the  subject  before  specified.  Th& 
system  being  novel,  much  argument  and  detail 
seemed  then  necessary  to  establish  principles  which 
now  are  assented  to  as  soon  as  proposed.  Hence 
his  book  admitted  to  be  able,  and  of  the  first  degree 
of  merit,  has  yet  been  considered  as  prolix  and  tedi- 
ous. 

In  France,  John  Baptist  Say  has  the  merit  of  pro- 
ducing a  very  superior  work  on  the  subject  of  Poli- 
tical Economy.  His  arrangement  is  luminous, 
ideas  clear,  style  perspicuous,  and  the  whole  sub- 
ject brought  within  half  the  volume  of  Smith's 
work ;  add  to  this,  considerable  advances  in  correct- 
ness, and  extension  of  principles. 

The  work  of  Senator  Tracy,  now  announced, 
comes  forward  with  all  the  lights  of  his  predecessors 
in  the  science,  and  with  the  advantages  of  further 
experience,  more  discussion  and  greater  maturity  of 
subject.  It  is  certainly  distinguished  by  important 
traits  ;  a  cogency  of  logic  which  has  never  been  ex- 
ceeded in  any  work,  a  rigorous  enchainment  of 
ideas,  and  constant  recurrence  to  it,  to  keep  it  in  the 
reader's  view,  a  fearless  pursuit  of  truth,  whitherso- 
ever it  leads,  and  a  diction  so  correct,  that  not  a 
word  can  be  changed  but  for  the  worse;  and,  as 
happens  in  other  cases,  that  the  more  a  subject  is 
understood,  the  more  briefly  it  may  be  explained, 
he  has  reduced,  not  indeed  all  the  details,  but  all 
the  elements  and  the  system  of  principles,  within  the 
rf>mpass  of  an  8vo,  of  about  400  pages  :  indeed,  we 


V 


might  say  within  two  thirds  of  that  space,  the  one 
third  being  taken  up  with  preliminary  pieces  now  to 
be  noticed. 

Mr.  Tracy  is  the  author  of  a  Treatise  on  the  ele- 
ments of  Ideology,  justly  considered  as  a  produc- 
tion of  the  first  order  in  the  science  of  our  thinking 
faculty,  or  of  the  understanding.  Considering  the 
present  work  but  as  a  second  section  to  those  ele- 
ments under  the  titles  of  Analytical  Table,  Supple- 
ment, and  Introduction,  he  gives  in  these  preliminary 
pieces  a  supplement  'to  the  Elements,  shews  how 
the  present  work  stands  on  that  as  its  basis,  pre- 
sents a  summary  view  of  it,  and,  before  entering  on 
the  formation,  distribution  and  employment  of  pro- 
perty, he  investigates  the  question  of  the  origin  of 
the  rights  of  property  and  personality,  a  question 
not  new  indeed,  yet  one  which  has  not  hitherto  been 
satisfactorily  settled.  These  investigations  are  ve- 
ry metaphysical,  profound  and  demonstrative,  and 
will  give  satisfaction  to  minds  in  the  habit  of  ab- 
stract speculation.  Readers,  however,  not  disposed 
to  enter  into  them,  after  reading  the  summary  view, 
entitled  "On  our  actions,"  will  probably  pass  on  at 
once  to  the  commencement  of  the  main  subject  of  the 
work,  which  is  treated  of  under  the  following  heads : 

Of  Society. 

Of  Production,  or  the  Formation  of  our  Riches. 

Of  Value,  or  the  Measure  of  Utility. 

Of  Change  of  Form,  or  Fabrication. 

Of  Change  of  Place,  or  Commerce. 

Of  Money. 

Of  the  Distribution  of  our  Riches. 

Of  Population. 


VI 

Of  the  employment  of  our  Riches  or  Consumption. 
Of  Public  Revenue,  Expenses  and  Debts. 

Although  the  work  now  offered  is  but  a  transla- 

~ 

tion,  it  may  be  considered  in  some  degree,  as  the 
original,  that  having  never  been  published  in  the 
country  in  which  it  was  written  ;  the  author  would 
there  have  been  submitted  to  the  unpleasant  alterna- 
tive either  of  mutilating  his  sentiments,  where  they 
were  either  free  or  doubtful,  or  of  risking  himself 
under  the  unsettled  regimen  of  their  press.  A 
manuscript  copy  communicated  to  a  friend  here  has 
enabled  him  to  give  it  to  a  country  which  is  afraid 
to  read  nothing,  and  which  may  be  trusted  with  any 
thing,  so  long  as  its  reason  remains  unfettered  by 
law. 

In  the  translation,  fidelity  has  been  chiefly  con- 
sulted ;  a  more  correct  style  would  sometimes  have 
given  a  shade  of  sentiment  which  was  not  the  au- 
thor's, and  which  in  a  work  standing  in  the  place 
of  the  original,  would  have  been  unjust  towards  him. 
Some  Gallicisms  have  therefore  been  admitted, 
where  a  single  word  gives  an  idea  which  would  re- 
quire a  whole  phrase  of  Dictionary  English  ;  in- 
deed, the  horrors  of  neologism,  which  startle  the  pu- 
rist, have  given  no  alarm  to  the  translator ;  where 
brevity,  perspicuity,  and  even  euphony  can  be  pro- 
moted by  the  introduction  of  a  new  word,  it  is  an 
improvement  of  the  language.  It  is  thus  the  English 
language  has  been  brought  to  what  it  is  ;  one  half  of 
it  having  been  innovations,  made  at  different  times, 
from  the  Greek,  Latin,  French,  and  other  lan- 
guages— and  is  it  the  worse  for  these  ?  Had  the  pre- 
posterous idea  of  fixing  the  language  been  adopted 


Vll 

in  the  time  of  our  Saxon  ancestors,  Pierce,  Plow- 
man, of  Chaucer,  of  Spencer,  the  progress  of  ideas 
nv.ist  have  stopped  with  that  of  the  progress  of  the 
language.  On  the  contrary,  nothing  is  more  evident 
than  that,  as  we  advance  in  the  knowledge  of  new 
things,  and  of  new  combinations  of  old  ones,  we 
must  have  new  words  to  express  them.  Were  Van 
Helmont,  Stahl,  Scheele,  to  rise  from  the  dead  at 
this  time,  they  would  scarcely  understand  one  word 
of  their  own  science.  Would  it  have  been  better, 
then,  to  have  abandoned  the  science  of  Chemistry, 
rather  than  admit  innovations  in  its  terms  ?  What  a 
wonderful  accession  of  copiousness  and  force  has  the 
French  language  attained  by  the  innovations  of  the 
last  thirty  years?  And  what  do  we  not  owe  to  Shake- 
spear  for  the  enrichment  of  the  language  by  his  free 
and  magical  creation  of  words?  In  giving  a  loose  to 
neologism,  indeed  uncouth  words  will  sometimes 
be  offered ;  but  the  public  will  judge  them,  and  re- 
ceive or  reject,  as  sense  or  sound  shall  suggest,  and 
authors  will  be  approved  or  condemned,  according 
to  the  use  they  make  of  this  license,  as  they  now  are 
from  their  use  of  the  present  vocabulary.  The  claim 
of  the  present  translation,  however,  is  limited  to  its 
duties  of  fidelity  and  justice  to  the  sense  of  its  origi- 
nal ;  adopting  the  author's  own  word  only  where  no 
term  of  our  own  language  would  convey  his  meaning. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

AT  the  encl^f  my  logic  I  have  traced  the  plan 
of  the  elements  of  ideology,  such  as  I  conceived  they 
ought  to  be,  to  give  a  complete  knowledge  of  our 
intellectual  faculties,  and  to  deduce  from  that  know- 
ledge the  first  principles  of  all  the  other  branches  of 
our  knowledge,  which  can  never  be  founded  on 
any  other  solid  base.     It  has  been  seen  that  I  di- 
vide these  elements  into  three  sections.     The  first 
is  properly  the  history  of  our  means  of  knowledge,, 
or  of  what  is  commonly  called  our  understanding. 
The  second  is  the  application  of  this  study  to  that 
of  our  will  and  its  effects,  and  it  completes  the  his- 
tory of  our  faculties.      The  third  is  the  application 
of  this  knowledge  of  our  faculties  to  the  study  of 
those  beings  which  are  not  ourselves,  that  is  to  say 
of  all  the  beings  which  surround  us.     If  the  second 
section  is  an  introduction  to  the  moral  and  political 
sciences,  the  third  is  that  to  the  physical  and  mathe- 
matical; and  both,  preceded  by  a  scrupulous  exam- 
ination into  the  nature  of  our  certitude  and  the  cau- 
ses of  our  errors,  appear  to  me  to  form  a  respecta- 
ble whole,  and  to  compose  what  we  ought  really  to 
call  the  first  philosophy.      I  even  believe  this  to 
have  been  proved  in  my  third  volume,  chapter  the 
ninth. 

If  I  cannot  flatter  myself  with  the  hope  of  bring- 
ing so  important  a  work  to  perfection,  I  wish  at 
least  to  contribute  to  it  as  much  as  is  in  my  power; 
and  I  hope  to  contribute  to  it,  perhaps  even  by  the 


X 

faults  from  which  I  shall  not  have  been  able  to 
guard  myself.  My  three  first  volumes  of  ideolo- 
gy* grammar  and  logic,  compose  the  first  section, 
or  the  history  of  our  means  of  knowledge. 

I  am  now  about  to  commence  tin?  second  section 
or  the  treatise  on  the  will  and  its  efiects ;  but  before 
entering  on  this  new  subject  I  think  it  right  to  add 
yet  something  to  that  which  I  have  said  on  the  first. 
Here  then  will  be  found,  under  the  name  of  a  sup- 
plement to  the  first  section,  something  further  sup- 
porting by  some  new  observations  my  manner  of 
conceiving  the  artifice  of  judgment  and  reasoning. 

I  hope  it  will  not  be  displeasing  to  the  amateurs 
of  this  research ;  because  in  condensing  and  bring- 
ing more  closely  together  the  most  important  of  my 
logical  principles,  I  present  them  under  a  new  as- 
pect, and  have  moreover  added  some  considerations 
on  the  theory  of  probabilities,  which  are  not  with- 
out interest,  considering  the  little  progress  this  sci- 
ence has  hitherto  made.  Those  too  who  are  not 
curious  as  to  the  latter  article,  and  who  may  be  suf- 
ficiently satisfied  with  my  theory  of  logic  and  con- 
vinced of  its  justice,  may  save  themselves  the  trou- 
ble of  reading  this  supplement,  which  is  but  a  super- 
abundance of  proof. 

Afterwards  follows  the  treatise  on  the  will  and 
its  effects  ;  the  first  part  of  which  I  now  submit  to 
the  public.  It  is  to  contain  three.  The  first,  which 
treats  of  our  actions ;  the  second,  which  treats  of  our 
sentiments ;  and  the  third,  which  treats  of  the  man- 
ner of  directing  our  actions  and  our  sentiments. 
These  three  parts  are  very  distinct  in  their  founda- 


XI 

tion,  although  closely  connected  with  one  another ; 
and  I  shall  be  very  careful  not  to  confound  them, 
notwithstanding  the  numeroug  relations  which  unite 
them,  and  to  avoid  as  much  as  possible  all  repeti- 
tions. But  it  will  readily  be  perceived  that  there 
are  general  considerations  which  are  common  to 
them;  and  that  before  speaking  of  the  effects  and 
consequences  of  our  willing  faculty,  and  of  the. 
manner  of  directing  it,  we  must  speak  of  this  fa- 
culty itself.  This  will  be  the  subject  of  a  prelimi- 
nary discourse,  composed  of  seven  chapters  or  pa- 
ragraphs. I  fear  it  will  appear  too  abstract ;  and 
that  many  readers  will  be  impatient  at  being  de- 
tained so  long  in  generalities  which  seem  to^-etard 
the  moment  of  real  entry  on  our  subject.  I  can 
agree  that  I  could  have  abridged  them.  Jf  I  have 
not  done  it,  it  is  because  I  have  been  well  persuad 
cd  that  I  should  gain  time  under  the  appearance  of 
losing  it. 

In  effect  I  pray  that  it  may  be  considered,  that 
wishing  really  to  place  the  moral  and  political  sci- 
ences on  their  true  basis,  a  knowledge  of  our  intel- 
lectual faculties,  it  was  necessary  to  begin  by  con- 
sidering our  faculty  or  will  under  all  its  [aspects  ; 
and  that  this  preliminary  examination  being  once 
made,  almost  all  the  principles  will  find  themselves 
established  naturally,  and  we  shall  advance  very 
rapidly  afterwards,  because  we  shall  never  be  obli- 
ged to  retrace  our  steps.  If  any  one  wishes  to  sa- 
tisfy himself  of  the  advantage  of  this  course,  he  has 
only  to  commence  reading  the  book  after  the  preli- 
minary discourse.  He  will  see  every  instant  that  he 


Xll 

lias  need  of  an  incidental  dissertation,  to  obviate  the 
difficulties  which  will  have  been  solved  before  : 
and  so  much  the  wdrs&for  those  who  should  not  ex- 
perience this  necessity,,  for  such  are  capable  of  be- 
ing persuaded  without  sufficient  reason.  There  are 
but  too  many  readers  endowed  with  this  kind  of  in- 
dulgence ;  but  it  is  not  of  their  suffrages  I  am  most 
ambitious.  I  consent  then  that  they  shall  accuse  me 
of  having  said  too  much ;  but  I  should  be  very 
sorry  if  those  who  are  more  difficult,  should  be  able 
to  accuse  me  of  having  passed  over  some  links  in 
the  chain  of  ideas.  It  is  especially  in  the  commence- 
ment that  this  fault  would  be  most  unpardonable, 
for  thej|  it  might  lead  to  the  most  serious  errors : 
and  it  is  thence  that  arise  all  those  erroneous  sys- 
tems which  are  the  more  deceiving,  inasmuch  as  the 
defect  is  liidden  in  the  foundation,  and  all  that  ap- 
pears is  consequent  and  well  connected.  Should 
the  last  reproach  be  urged,  my  only  answer  would 
be  that  I  have  made  every  effort  not  to  deserve  it ; 
and  I  can  at  the  same  time  protest,  that  I  have  not 
sought  beforehand  any  of  those  results  to  which  I 
have  been  conducted,  and  that  I  have  only  followed 
the  thread  which  guided  me,  the  series  of  ideas  ex- 
erting all  my  attention  not  to  break  it.  The  judg- 
ment of  the  public  will  teach  me  whether  I  have  suc- 
ceeded, and  I  will  not  forestall  it  by  any  other  pre- 
face than  this  simple  advertisement. 

My  plan,  my  motives,  and  my  manner  of  pro- 
ceeding have  been  sufficiently  explained  in  the  pre- 
ceding volumes. 


ABSTRACT, 


OR 


ANALYTICAL    TABLE. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

BEFORE  commencing  the  second  section  of  the  elements 
of  Ideology,  which  treats  of  the  will  and  its  effects,  I  am 
going  to  give  a  supplement  to  the  first,  which  embraces  the 
history  of  our  means  of  knowledge.  Then  will  come  the 
introduction  to  the  treatise  on  the  will,  which  presents  the 
general  considerations  common  to  the  three  parts  of  which 
this  treatise  is  composed.  The  introduction  will  be  followed 
by  the  first  of  these  three  parts,  that  which  treats  specially  of 
our  actions. 


SUPPLEMENT 

To  the  first  section  of  the  Elements  of  Ideology. 

I  have  previously  reduced  the  whole  science  of  logic  to 
two  facts. 

The  first  is  that  our  perceptions  being  every  thing  for  us, 
We  are  perfectly,  completely,  and  necessarily  sure  of  what- 
ever we  actually  feel. 
B 


The  second  is  that  consequently  none  of  our  judgments, 
separately  taken,  can  be  erroneous  :  inasmuch  as  we  see  one 
idea  in  another  it  is  actually  there ;  but  their  falsity,  when  it 
takes  place,  is  purely  relative  to  anterior  judgments,  which 
we  permit  to  subsist ;  and  it  consists  in  this,  that  we  believe 
the  idea  in  which  we  perceive  a  new  element  to  be  the  same 
as  that  we  have  always  had  under  the  same  sign,  when  it  is 
really  different,  since  the  new  element  which  we  actually 
see  there  is  incompatible  with  some  of  those  which  we  have 
previously  seen  ;  so  that  to  avoid  contradiction  we  must  ei- 
ther take  away  the  former  or  not  admit  the  latter.  Front 
these  two  facts  or  principles  I  deduce  here  fourteen  apho- 
risms or  maxims,  which  constitute  in  my  opinion  the  whole 
art  of  logic,  such  as  it  proceeds  from  the  true  science  of  lo- 
gic- 
According  to  the  last  of  these  aphorisms,  which  enjoins  us 
to  abstain  from  judging  while  we  have  not  sufficient  data,  I 
speak  of  the  theory  of  probability. 

The  science  of  probability  is  not  the  same  thing  as  the  cal- 
culation of  probability.  It  9onsists  in  the  research  of  data 
and  in  their  combination.  The  calculation  consists  only  in 
the  latter  part :  it  may  be  very  just,  and  yet  lead  to  results 
very  false.  Of  this  the  mathematicians  have  not  been  suffi- 
ciently aware.  They  have  taken  it  for  the  whole  science. 

The  science  of  probability  is  not  then  a  particular  science ; 
as  a  research  of  data  it  makes  a  part  of  each  of  the  science? 
on  which  these  data  depend;  as  a  calculation  of  data  it  is 
an  employment  of  the  science  of  quantity. 

The  science  of  probability  is  properly  the  conjectural  part 
of  each  of  the  branches  of  our  knowledge,  in  some  of  which 
calculation  may  be  employed. 

But  it  is  necessary  to  see  well  what  are  those  of  whick 
the  ideas  are,  from  their  nature,  susceptible  of  shades  suffi- 
ciently precise  and  determinate  to  be  referred  to  the  exact 
divisions  of  the  names  of  numbers  and  of  cyphers,  and  in  order 
that  in  the  sequel  we  may  apply  to  them  the  rigorous  lan- 
guage of  the  science  of  quantities.  To  this  again  the  mathe- 
maticians have  not  paid  sufficient  attention.  They  have  be- 


XI 

Meved  that  every  thing  consisted  in  calculation,  and  this  hag 
betrayed  them  into  frightful  errors. 

In  the  state  in  which  the  science  of  probability  is  as  yet,  if 
it  be  one,  I  have  thought  I  should  confine  myself  to  this  small 
number  of  reflections,  intended  to  determine  well  its  nature, 
its  means,  and  its  object. 


SECOND  SECTION 

OF  THE 

Elements  of  Ideology,  or  a  treatise  on  the  will  and  its  effects^ 
INTRODUCTION. 

SECTION     1. 

The  faculty  of  will  is  a  mode  and  a  consequence  of  the  faculty  of 
perception. 

We  have  just  finished  the  examination  of  our  means  of 
knowledge.  We  must  employ  them  in  the  study  of  our  fa- 
culty of  will  to  complete  the  history  of  our  intellectual  fa- 
culties. 

The  faculty  of  willing  produces  in  us  the  ideas  of  wants 
and  means,  of  riches  and  deprivation,  of  rights  and  duties, 
of  justice  and  injustice,  which  flow  from  the  idea  of  proper- 
ty, which  is  itself  derived  from  the  idea  of  personality.  It 
is  necessary  therefore  first  to  examine  this  latter,  and  to  ex- 
plain beforehand  with  accuracy  what  the  faculty  of  willing  is. 

The  faculty  of  willing  is  that  of  finding  some  one  thing 
preferable  to  another. 

It  is  a  mode  and  a  consequence  of  the  faculty  of  feeling. 


Xll 

SECTION 


From  the  faculty  of  will  arise  the  ideas  of  personality  and  property. 

The  self  of  every  one  of  us  is  for  him  his  own  sensibility. 

Thus  sensibility  alone  gives  to  a  certain  point,  the  idea  of 
personality. 

But  the  mode  of  sensibility,  called  the  will  or  willing  fa- 
culty, can  alone  render  this  idea  of  personality  complete  ;  it 
is  then  only  that  it  can  produce  the  idea  of  property  as  we 
have  it.  The  idea  of  property  arises  then  solely  from  the 
faculty  of  will  ;  and  moreover  it  arises  necessarily  from  it,  for 
we  cannot  have  an  idea  of  self  without  having  that  of  the  pro- 
perty in  all  the  faculties  of  self  and  in  their  effects.  If  it 
was  not  thus,  if  there  was  not  amongst  us  a  natural  and  ne- 
cessary property,  there  never  would  have  been  a  conventional 
or  artificial  property. 

This  truth  is  the  foundation  of  all  economy,  and  of  all  mo- 
rality ;  which  are  in  their  principles  but  one  and  the  same 
science. 


SECTION  3. 
From  the  faculty  of  will  arise  all  our  wants  and  all  our  means. 

The  same  intellectual  acts  emanating  from  our  faculty  of 
will,  which  cause  us  to  acquire  a  distinct  and  complete  idea 
of  self,  and  of  exclusive  property  in  all  its  modes,  are  also 
those  which  render  us  susceptible  of  wants,  and  are  the 
source  of  all  our  means  of  providing  for  those  wants. 

For  1st.  Every  desire  is  a  want,  and  every  want  is  never 
but  the  need  of  satisfying  a  desire.  Desire  is  always  in  itself 
a  pain. 

2d.  When  our  sensitive  system  re-acts  on  our  muscular 
system  these  desires  have  the  property  of  directing  our  ac- 
tions, and  thus  of  producing  all  our  means. 

Labour,  the  employment  of  our  force,  constitutes  our  only 
treasure  and  our  only  power. 


Xlll 


Thus  it  is  the  faculty  of  will  which  renders  us  proprietors 
of  wants  and  means,  of  passion  and  action,  of  pain  and  power. 
Thence  arise  the  ideas  of  riches  and  deprivation. 


SECTION  4. 
From  the  faculty  of  will  arise  also  the  ideas  of  riches  and  deprivation* 

Whatsoever  contributes,  mediately  or  immediately,  to  the 
satisfaction  of  our  wants  is  for  us  a  good ;  that  is  to  say,  a 
thing  the  possession  of  which  is  a  good. 

To  be  rich  is  to  possess  these  goods;  to  be  poor  is  to  be 
without  them. 

They  arise  all  from  the  employment  of  our  faculties,  of 
which  they  are  the  effect  and  representation. 

These  gqods  have  all  two  values  amongst  us ;  the  one  is 
that  of  the  sacrifices  they  cost  to  him  who  produces  them,  the 
other  that  of  the  advantages  which  they  procure  for  him  who 
has  acauired  them. 

Tne  labour  from  which  they  emanate  has  then  these  \ wo 
valuer 

Yes  ^labour  has  these  two  values.  The  one  is  the  sum  of  the 
objects  necessary  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  wants  that  arise  ine- 
vitably in  an  animated  being  during  the  operation  of  his  labour. 
The  other  is  the  mass  of  utility  resulting  from  this  labour. 

The  latter  value  is  eventual  and  variable. 

The  first  is  natural  and  necessary.  It  has  not  however  an 
absolute  fixity ;  and  it  is  this  which  renders  very  delicate  all 
economical  and  moral  calculations. 

We  can  scarcely  employ  in  these  matters  but  the  conside- 
rations drawn  from  the  theory  of  limits. 


SECTION  5. 
From  the  faculty  of  will  arise  also  the  ideas  of  liberty  and  constraint. 

Liberty  is  the  power  of  executing  our  will.     It  is  our  first 
good.    It  includes  them  all       A  constraint  muiudes  all  our 


XIV 

evils,  since  it  is  a  deprivation  of  the  power  to  satisfy  our  wants 
and  accomplish  our  desires. 

All  constraint  is  sufferance ;  all  liberty  is  enjoyment.  The 
total  value  of  the  liberty  of  an  animated  being  is  equal  te 
that  of  all  his  faculties  united. 

It  is  absolutely  infinite  for  him  and  without  a  possible 
equivalent,  since  its  entire  loss  imports  the  impossibility  of 
the  possession  of  any  good. 

Our  sole  duty  is  to  augment  our  liberty  and  its  value. 

The  object  of  society  is  solely  the  fulfilment  of  this  duty. 


SECTION  6. 
Finally,  from  the  faculty  of  will  arise  our  ideas  of  rights  and  duties. 

Rights  arise  from  wants,  and  duties  from  means. 

Weakness  in  all  its  kinds  is  the  source  of  all  rights,  and 
power  the  source  of  all  duties;  or  in  other  words  of  the  ge- 
neral duty  to  employ  it  well,  which  comprehends  all  the 
others. 

These  ideas  of  rights  and  duties  are  not  so  essentially  cor- 
relative as  is  commonly  said.  That  of  rights  is  anterior  and 
absolute. 

An  animated  being  by  the  laws  of  his  nature  has  always 
the  right  to  satisfy  his  wants,  and  he  has  no  duties  but  ac- 
cording to  circumstances. 

A  sentient  and  willing  being,  but  incapable  of  action, 
would  have  all  rights  and  no  duties. 

This  being  supposed  capable  of  action,  and  insulated  from 
every  other  sensible  being,  has  still  the  same  plenitude  of 
rights,  with  the  sole  duty  of  properly  directing  his  actions 
and  well  employing  his  means  for  the  most  complete  satisfac- 
tion of  his  wants. 

Place  this«ame  being  in  contact  with  other  beings  who  de- 
velope  to  him  their  sensibility  too  imperfectly  to  enable  him 
to  form  conventions  with  them ;  he  has  still  the  same  rights, 
and  his  duties  or  rather  his  sole  duty  is  only  changed,  so  fav 


XV 

as  lie  must  act  on  the  will  of  these  beings,  and  is  under  a  ne- 
cessity to  sympathise  more  or  less  with  them.  Such  are  our 
relations  with  the  brutes. 

Suppose  this  same  sensible  being  in  relation  with  beings 
with  whom  he  can  completely  communicate  and  form  conven- 
tions, he  has  still  the  same  rights  unlimited  in  themselves, 
and  the  same  sole  duty. 

These  rights  are  not  bounded,  this  duty  is  not  modified  by 
the  conventions  established;  but  because  these  conventions 
are  so  many  means  of  exercising  these  rights,  of  fulfilling 
this  duty  better  and  more  fully  than  before. 

The  possibility  of  explaining  ourselves  and  not  agricul- 
ture, grammar  and  not  Ceres,  is  our  first  legislator. 
It  is  at  the  establishment  of  conventions  that  the  just  and 
unjust,  properly  speaking,  commence. 


SECTION    /. 
Conclusion. 

The  general  considerations  just  read  begin  to  diffuse  some 
light  over  the  subject  with  which  we  are  occupied,  but  they 
are  not  sufficient.  We  must  see  more  in  detail  what  are  the 
numerous  results  of  our  actions ;  what  are  the  different  sen- 
timents which  arise  from  our  first  desires,  and  what  is  the 
best  possible  manner  of  directing  these  actions  and  senti- 
ments. Here  will  be  found  the  division  which  I  have  an- 
nounced. I  shall  begin  by  speaking  of  our  actions. 


FIRST  PAKT 


TREATISE  ON  THE  WILL  AND  ITS  EFFECTS. 

OF  OUR  ACTIONS. 
CHAPTER  I. 

Of  Society. 

In  the  introduction  to  a  treatise  on  the  will  it  was  proper 
to  indicate  the  generation  of  some  general  ideas  which  are 
the  necessary  consequences  of  this  faculty. 

It  was  even  incumbent  on  us  to  examine  summarily, 

1st.  What  are  inanimate  beings,  that  is  to  say  beings  nei- 
their  sentient  nor  willing. 

2d.  What  sentient  beings  would  be  with  indifference  with- 
out will. 

3d.    What  are  sentient  and  willing  beings  but  insulated. 

4th.  Finally,  what  are  sentient  and  willing  beings  like 
ourselves,  but  placed  in  contact  with  similar  beings. 

It  is  with  the  latter  we  are  now  exclusively  to  occupy  our- 
selves, for  man  can  exist  only  in  society. 

The  necessity  of  reproduction  and  the  propensity  to  sym- 
pathy necessarily  lead  him  to  this  state,  and  his  judgment 
makes  him  perceive  its  advantages. 

I  proceed  then  to  speak  of  society. 

I  shall  consider  it  only  with  respect  to  economy,  because 
this  first  part  concerns  our  actions  only  and  not  as  yet  our 
sentiments. 

Under  this  relation  society  consists  only  in  a  continual 
succession  of  EXCHANGES,  and  exchange  is  a  transaction  of 
such  a  nature  that  both  contracting  parties  always  gain  by 


xvii 


it.  (This  observation  will  hereafter  throw  great  light  on  the 
nature  and  effects  of  commerce.) 

We  cannot  cast  our  eyes  on  a  civilized  country  without 
seeing:  with  astonishment  how  much  this  continual  succession 
of  small  advantages,  unperceived  but  incessantly  repeated, 
adds  to  the  pnm^ive  power  of  man. 

It  is  because  this  succession  of  changes,  which  constitutes 
society,  has  three  remarkable  properties.  It  produces  con- 
currence of  force,  increase  and  preservation  of  intelligence 
and  J.ivi.nirm  of  Irihnur. 

The  'itiJHv  of  these  three  effects  is  continually  aupnenting. 
It  will  be  better  nerceived  when  we  shall  have  seen  how  our 
riches  are  formed, 


CHAPTER  II. 

Of  Production,  or  the  formation  of  our  Riches* 

In  the  first  place  what  ought  we  to  understand  by  the 
word  production  ?  We  create  nothing.  We  operate  only 
ch?  no-ess  of  form  and  of  place. 

To  nrnduce  is  to  give  to  things  an  utility  which  they  had 
not  before. 

All  labour  from  which  utility  results  is  productive. 

That  relative  to  agriculture  has  in  this  respect  nothing  par- 
ticular. 

A  farm  is  truly  a  manufactory. 

A  field  is  a  real  tool,  or  in  other  words  a  stock  of  first  ma- 
terials. A 

All  the  laborious  class  is  productive. 

The  truly  sterile  class  is  that  of  the  idle. 

Manufacturers  fabricate,  merchants  transport.  This  is 
Our  industry.  It  consists  in  the  production  of  utility. 


XV111 

CHAPTER  III. 

Of  the  measure  of  Utility,  or  of  Value. 

Whatever  contributes  to  augment  our  enjoyments  and  to 
diminish  our  sufferings,  is  useful  to  us. 

We  are  frequently  very  unjust  appreciators  of  the  real 
utility  of  things. 

But  the  measure  of  utility  which,  right  or  wrong,  we  as- 
cribe to  a  thing  is  the  sum  of  the  sacrifices  we  are  disposed 
to  make  to  procure  its  possession. 

This  is  what  is  called  the  price  of  this  thing,  it  is  its  real 
value  in  relation  to  riches. 

The  mean  then  of  enriching  ourselves  is  to  devote  our- 
selves to  that  species  of  labour  which  is  most  dearly  paid  for? 
whatever  be  its  nature. 

This  is  true  as  to  a  nation  as  well  as  to  an  individual. 

Observe  always  that  the  conventional  value,  the  market 
price  of  a  thing,  being  determined  by  the  balance  of  the  re- 
sistance of  sellers  and  buyers,  a  thing  without  being  less  de- 
sired becomes  less  dear,  when  it  is  more  easily  produced. 

This  is  the  great  advantage  of  the  progress  of  the  arts.  It 
causes  us  to  be  provided  for  on  better  terms,  because  we  are 
so  with  less  trouble. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Of  the  change  of  form,  or  of  fabricating  Industry,  compris- 
ing Agriculture. 

In  every  species  of  iudustry  there  are  three  things  :  theo- 
ry, application  and  execution.  Hence  three  kinds  of  labour- 
ers ;  the  man  of  science,  the  undertaker,  and  the  workman , 

All  are  obliged  to  expend  more  or  less  before  they  can  re- 
ceive, and  especially  the  undertaker. 


XIX 

These  advances  are  furnished  by  anterior  economies,  And 
are  called  capitals. 

The  man  of  science  and  the  workman  are  regularly  com- 
pensated by  the  undertaker ;  but  he  has  no  benefit  but  in  pro- 
portion to  the  success  of  his  fabrication. 

It  is  indispensable  that  the  labors  most  necessary  should 
be  the  most  moderately  recompensed. 

This  is  true  most  especially  of  those  relative  to  agricultu- 
ral industry.  This  has  moreover  the  inconvenience  that  the 
agricultural  undertaker  cannot  make  up  for  the  mediocrity 
ef  his  profits  by  the  great  extension  of  his  business. 

Accordingly  this  profession  has  no  attractions  for  the  rich. 

The  proprietors  of  land  who  do  not  cultivate  it  are  stran- 
gers to  agricultural  industry.  They  arc  merely  lenders  of 
funds. 

They  dispose  of  them  according  to  the  convenience  of 
those  whom  they  can  engage  to  labor  them. 

There  are  four  sorts  of  undertakers ;  two  with  greater  or 
smaller  means,  the  lessees  of  great  and  small  farms  ;  and  two 
almost  without  means,  those  who  farm  on  shares  and  la- 
bourers. 

Hence  four  species  of  cultivation  essentially  different. 

The  division  into  great  and  small  culture  is  insufficient 
and  subject  to  ambiguity. 

Agriculture  then  i§  the  first  of  arts  in  relation  to  necessi- 
ty, but  not  in  regard  to  riches. 

It  is  because  our  means  of  subsistence  and  our  means  of 
existence  are  two  very  different  things,  and  we  are  wrong  to 
confound  them. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Of  the  change  of  place,  or  of  Commercial  Industry. 

insulated  man  might  fabricate  but  could  not  trade. 
For  commerce  and  society  are  one  and  the  same 


XX 

It  alone  animates  industry. 

It  unites  in  the  first  place  inhabitants  of  the  same  cs  •••-»p« 
Then  the  different  cantons  of  the  same  country,  -  ^d  finally 
different  nations. 

The  greatest  advantage  of  external  commence,  the  only 
one  meriting  attention,  is  its  giving  a  g  ^ter  developement 
to  that  which  is  internal. 

v  Merchants,  properly  so  railed,  facilitate  commerce,  but  it 
exists  before  them  and  without  them. 

They  give  a  new  value  to  things  by  effecting  a  change  of 
place,  as  fabricators  do  by  a  change  of  form. 

It  is  from  this  increase  of  value  that  they  derive  t^  '    • 
fits. 

Commercial  industry  presents  the  same  phenumen?  as  fa- 
bricating industry ;  in  it  are  likewise  theory,  application  and 
Execution.  Men  of  science,  undertakers  and  workmen ;  these 
are  compensated  in  like  manner ;  they  have  analogous  func- 
tions and  interests,  &c,  &c. 


CHAPTER  VL 

Of  Money. 

Commerce  can  and  does  exist  to  a  certain  degree  without 
money. 

The  values  of  all  those  things,  which  have  any,  serve  as 
a  reciprocal  measure. 

The  precious  metals,  which  are  one  of  those  things,  be- 
come soon  their  common  measure,  because  they  have  many 
advanta^  for  this  purpose. 

However  they  are  not  yet  money.  It  is  the  impression  of 
the  sovereign  which  gives  this  quality  to  a  piece  of  metal,  in 
establishing  its  weight  and  its  fineness. 

Silver  money  is  the  only  true  common  measure. 

The  proportion  of  gold  and  silver  vary  according  to  times 
and  places. 


xxi 

Copper  money  is  a  false  money,  useful  only  for  small 
change. 

It  is  to  be  desired  that  coins  had  never  borne  other  names 
than  those  of  their  weight ;  and  that  the  arbitrary  denomina- 
tions, called  monies  of  account,  such  as  livres,  sous,  deniers, 
&c.  &c.  had  never  been  used. 

But  when  these  denominations  are  admitted  and  employ- 
ed in  transactions,  to  diminish  the  quantity  of  metal  to 
which  they  answer,  by  an  alteration  of  the  real  coins,  is  t» 

-     ;' 

*«  a  theft  which  injures  even  him  who  commits  it. 
^fi  of  greater  magnitude,  and  still  more  ruinous,  is 
the  n:  Vin£  of  paper  money. 

It  ,  ./ea.vr,  because  in  this  money  there  is  absolutely  no 
re?'  v«?'"p. 

,ii  ir    .    "nous,  because  by  its  gradual  depreciation, 
\  ..  tLue  of  its  existence,  it  produces  the  effect 

.  produced  by  an  infinity  of  successive  dete- 
i    .o  ci*  the  coins. 

All  these  iniquities  are  founded  on  the  false  idea  that  mo- 
ney is  but  a  sign,  while  it  is  vu<  ue  and  a  true  equivalent  of 
that  for  which  it  is  given. 

Silver  being  a  value,  as  every  other  useful  thing,  we  should 
be  allowed  to  hire  it  as  freely  as  any  other  thing. 

Exchange,  properly  so  culled,  is  a  simple  barter  of  one 
money  for  another.  Banking,  or  the  proper  office  of  a  bank- 
er, consists  in  enabling  you  to  receive  in  another  city  the 
money  which  you  deliver  him  in  that  in  which  he  is. 

Bankers  render  also  other  services,  such  as  discounting, 
lending,  &c.  &c. 

All  these  bankers,  exchangers,  lenders,  discounters,  &c.  &c. 
have  a  great  tendency  to  form  themselves  into  large  compa- 
nies under  the  pretext  of  rendering  their  services  on  more 
reasonable  terms,  but  in  fact  to  be  paid  more  dearly  for  them. 
All  these  privileged  companies,  after  the  emission  of  a 
great  number  of  notes,  end  in  obtaining  authority  to  refuse 
payment  at  sight ;  and  thus  forcibly  introduce  a  paper  mq- 


XXII 
CHAPTER  VII, 

Reflections  on  what  precedes. 

Thus  far  T  believe  myself  to  have  followed  the  best  course 
for  the  attainment  of  the  object  which  I  propose. 

This  not  being  a  treatise  expressly  of  political  economy, 
but  a  treatise  on  the  will,  the  sequel  of  one  on  the  under- 
standing, we  are  not  here  to  expect  numerous  details,  but  a 
rigorous  chain  of  principal  propositions. 

What  we  have  seen  already  overturns  many  important  er- 
rors. 

We  have  a  clear  idea  of  the  formation  of  our  riches. 

It  remains  for  us  to  speak  of  their  distribution  amongst 
the  members  of  society,  and  of  their  consumption. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Of  the  distribution  of  our  Riches  amongst  Individuals. 

We  must  now  consider  man  under  the  relation  of  the  in- 
terests of  individuals. 

The  species  is  strong  and  powerful,  the  individual  is  es- 
sentially miserable. 

Property  and  inequality  are  insuperable  conditions  of  our 
nature. 

Labour,  even  the  least  skilful,  is  a  considerable  property 
as  long  as  there  are  lands  not  occupied. 

It  is  an  error  in  some  writers  to  have  pretended  there 
were  non-proprietors. 

Divided  by  many  particular  interests,  we  are  all  re-united 
by  those  of  proprietors  and  of  consumers. 

After  agriculture  the  other  arts  develope  themselves. 

Misery  commences  when  they  can  no  longer  satisfy  the 
i  alls  for  labour,  which  augment. 

The  state  of  great  ease  is  necessarily  transitory ;  the  fe- 
»  nndity  of  the  human  species  is  the  cause. 


XX111 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Of  the  'multiplication  of  Individuals,  or  of  Population. 

Man  multiplies  rapidly  wherever  he  has  in  abundance  the 
means  of  existence. 

Population  never  becomes  retrograde,  nor  even  stationary, 
but  because  these  means  fail. 

Amongst  savages  it  is  soon  checked,  because  their  means 
are  scanty. 

Civilized  people  have  more,  they  become  more  numerous 
in  proportion  as  they  have  more  or  less  of  these  means,  and 
make  better  use  of  them.  But  the  increase  of  their  popula- 
tion is  arrested  also. 

Then  there  exists  always  as  many  men  as  can  exist. 

Then  it  is  also  absurd  to  suppose  they  can  be  multiplied 
otherwise  than  by  multiplying  their  means  of  existence. 

Then  finally  it  is  barbarous  to  wish  it,  since  they  always 
attain  the  limits  of  possibility,  beyond  which  they  only  ex- 
tinguish one  another. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Consequences  and  developement  of  the  two  preceding  Chapters. 

Let  us  recollect  first,  that  we  all  have  separate  interests*, 
and  unequal  means. 

Secondly.  That  nevertheless  we  are  all  united  by  the  com- 
mon interests  of  proprietors  and  consumers. 

Thirdly.  That,  consequently,  there  are  not  in  society 
classes  which  are  constantly  enemies  to  one  another. 

Society  divides  itself  into  two  great  classes,  hirelings  and 
employers. 

This  second  class  contains  two  species  of  men,  namely 
the  idle  who  live  on  their  revenue. 

Their  means  do  not  augment. 


XXIV 

And  the  active  who  join  their  industry  to  the  capitals 
they  may  possess.  Having  reached  a  certain  term  their 
means  augment  but  little. 

The  funds  on  which  the  stipendiaries  live  become  there- 
fore with  time  nearly  a  constant  quantity. 

Moreover  the  class  of  hirelings  receives  the  surplus  of  all 
the  others. 

Thus  the  extent  which  that  surplus  can  attain  determines 
that  of  the  total  population  of  which  it  explains  all  the  varia- 
tions. 

It  follows  thence  that  whatever  is  really  useful  to  the  poor, 
is  always  really  useful  to  society  at  large. 

As  proprietors  the  poor  have  an  interest,  first  that  proper- 
ty be  respected.  The  preservation  even  of  that  which  does 
not  belong  to  them,  bu+  from  which  they  are  remunerated  is 
important  to  them. ..  It  is  just  and  useful  also  to  leave  them 
masters  of  their  labour,  and  of  their  abode. 

Secondly.  That  wages  be  sufficient.  It  is  of  importance 
also  to  society  that  the  poor  should  not  be  too  wretched. 

Thirdly.  That  these  wages  be  steady.  Variations  in  the 
different  branches  of  industry  are  an  evil.  Those  in  the 
price  of  grain  are  a  still  greater  one.  Agricultural  people 
are  greatly  exposed  to  the  latter.  Commercial  people  are 
rarely  exposed  to  the  former,  except  through  their  own  fault. 

As  consumers  the  poor  have  an  interest  that  fabrication 
should  be  economical,  the  means  of  communication  easy,  and 
commercial  relations  numerous.  The  simplification  of  pro- 
cess in  the  arts,  the  perfection  of  method  are  to  them  a  benefit 
and  not  an  evil.  In  this  their  interest  is  also  that  of  society 
in  general. 

After  the  opposition  of  our  interests  let  us  examine  the 
inequality  of  our  means* 

All  inequality  is  an  evil,  because  it  is  a  mean  of  injustice. 

Let  us  distinguish  the  inequality  of  power  from  inequality 
of  riches. 

Inequality  of  power  is  the  most  grievous.  It  is  that  which 
exists  among  savages. 


XXV 

Society  diminishes  the  inequality  of  power ;  but  it  aug« 
ments  that  of  riches,  which  carried  to  an  extreme  reprodu- 
ces that  of  power. 

This  inconvenience  is  more  or  fess  difficult  to  avoid,  ac- 
cording to  different  circumstances.  Thence  the  difference 
in  the  destinies  of  nations. 

It  is  this  vicious  circle  which  explains  the  connexion  of 
many  events  which  have  been  always  spoken  of  in  a  manner 
very  vague  and  very  unexact. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Of  the  employment  of  our  riches,  or  of  Consumption. 

After  having  explained  how  our  riches  are  formed,  and 
how  they  are  distributed,  it  is  easy  to  see  how  we  use  them. 

Consumption  is  always  the  reverse  of  production. 

It  varies  however  according  to  the  species  of  consumers, 
and  the  nature  of  the  things  consumed.  First  let  us  consi- 
der the  consumers. 

The  consumption  of  the  hired  ought  to  be  regarded  as 
made  by  the  capitalists  who  employ  them. 

These  capitalists  are  either  the  idle  who  live  on  their  re- 
venue, or  the  active  who  live  on  their  profits. 

The  first  remunerate  only  sterile  labour.  Their  entire 
consumption  is  a  pure  loss,  accordingly  they  cannot  expend 
annually  more  than  their  revenue. 

The  others  expend  annually  all  their  funds,  and  all  those 
which  they  hire  of  the  idle  capitalists  5  and  sometimes  they 
expend  them  several  times  in  the  year. 

Their  consumption  is  of  two  kinds. 

That  which  they  make  for  the  satisfaction  of  their  person- 
al wants  is  definitive  and  sterile,  as  that  of  idle  men. 


That  which  they  make  in  their  quality  of  industrious  meiQ 
returns  to  them  with  profit. 

It  is  with  these  profits  they  pay  their  personal  expenses, 
and  the  interest  due  to  idle  capitalists. 

Thus  they  find  that  they  pay  both  the  hirelings  whom  they 
immediately  employ,  and  the  idle  proprietors  and  their  hire- 
lings; and  all  this  returns  to  them  by  the  purchases  which 
all  those  people  make  of  their  productions. 

It  is  this  which  constitutes  circulation,  of  which  produc- 
tive consumption  is  the  only  fund. 

In  regard  to  the  nature  of  things  consumed,  consumption 
the  most  gradual  is  the  most  economical  the  most  prompt : 
is  the  most  destructive. 

\Ve  see  that  luxury,  that  is  to  say  superfluous  consump- 
tion, can  neither  accelerate  circulation  nor  increase  its  funds. 
It  only  substitutes  useless  for  useful  expenses. 

It  is  like  inequality,  an  inconvenience  attached  to  the  in- 
crease of  riches ;  but  it  can  never  be  the  cause  of  their  aug- 
mentation. £ 

History  plainly  shows  what  happens  wherever  useless  ex- 
penses have  been  suppressed. 

All  theories  contrary  to  this  reduce  themselves  to  this  un- 
tenable proposition.  That  to  destroy  is  to  produce. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Of  the  revenues  and  expenses  of  government  and  its  debts. 

The  history  of  the  consumption  of  government  is  but  a 
part  of  the  history  of  general  consumption. 

Government  is  a  very  great  consumer,  living  not  on  its 
profits  but  on  its  revenues. 

It  is  good  that  the  government  should  possess  real  proper- 
ty. Independently  of  other  reasons  it  calls  for  so  much  the 
less  of  taxes. 


XXV11 

A  tax  is  always  a  sacrifice  which  the  government  demands 
of  individuals.  While  it  only  lessens  every  one's  personal 
enjoyments,  it  only  shifts  expenses  from  one  to  another. 

But  when  it  encroaches  on  productive  consumption  it  di- 
minishes public  riches. 

The  difficulty  is  to  see  clearly  when  taxes  produce  the  one 
or  the  other  of  these  two  effects. 

To  judge  well  of  this  we  must  divide  them  into  six  classes. 

We  show  in  the  first  place  that  the  taxes  of  each  of  these 
six  classes  are  injurious  in  ways  peculiar  to  themselves. 

We  show  afterwards  who  in  particular  are  injured  by  each 
of  them. 

Is  a  conclusion  asked  ?  Here  it  is.  The  best  taxes  are, 
first,  the  most  moderate,  because  they  compel  fewer  sacrifi- 
ces and  occasion  less  violence.  Secondly,  The  most  varied, 
because  they  produce  an  equilibrium  amongst  themselves. 
Thirdly,  The  most  ancient,  because  they  have  already  mixed 
with  all  prices,  and  every  thing  is  arranged  in  consequence. 

As  to  the  expenses  of  government  they  are  necessary  but 
they  are  sterile.  It  is  desirable  that  they  be  the  smallest 
possible. 

It  is  still  more  desirable  that  government  should  contract 
no  debts. 

It  is  very  unfortunate  that  it  has  the  power  of  contracting 
them. 

This  power,  which  is  called  public  credit,  speedily  con- 
ducts all  the  governments  which  use  it  to  their  ruin ;  has 
none  of  the  advantages  which  are  attributed  to  it;  and  rests 
on  a  false  principle. 

It  is  to  be  desired  that  it  were  universally  acknowledged 
that  the  acts  of  any  legislative  power  whatsoever  cannot  bind 
their  successors,  and  that  it  should  be  solemnly  declared  that 
this  principle  is  extended  to  the  engagements  which  they 
make  with  the  lenders. 


XXV111 
CHAPTER  XIII. 

Conclusion. 

This  is  not  properly  a  treatise  on  political  economy,  but 
the  first  part  of  a  treatise  on  the  will ;  which  will  be  follow- 
ed by  two  other  parts,  and  which  is  preceded  by  an  intro- 
duction common  to  all  the  three. 

Thus  we  ought  not  to  have  entered  into  many  details,  but 
to  ascend  carefully  to  principles  founded  in  the  'observation 
of  our  faculties,  and  to  indicate  as  clearly  as  possible  the  re- 
lations between  our  physical  and  moral  wants. 

This  is  what  I  have  endeavoured  to  do.  Incontestible 
truths  result  from  it. 

They  will  be  contested  however,  less  through  interest  than 
passion. 

A  new  bond  of  union  between  economy  and  morality ;  a 
new  reason  for  analizing  well  our  diiferent  sentiments,  and 
for  enquiring  with  care  whether  they  are  founded  on  just  or 
on  false  opinions. 

Let  us  now  consider  our  sentiments. 


LI  It  R  A  K'  V 


A  TREATISE 


POLITICAL  ECONOMY, 


SUPPLEMENT 


First  Section  of  the  Elements  of  Ideology. 

In  proportion  as  I  advance  in  the  digestion  of 
these  elements,  I  am  incessantly  obliged  to  return 
to  objects,  of  which  I  have  already  treated.  At  the 
commencement  of  the  grammar  it  was  necessary  to 
recall  the  attention  of  the  reader  to  the  analysis  of 
the  judgment,  to  render  still  more  precise  the  idea  of 
that  intellectual  operation,  and  of  its  results,  and  to 
repeat  several  of  the  effects  already  recognized  in  the 
signs,  and  several  of  their  relations,  with  the  nature 
of  the  ideas  which  they  represent. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  volume  which  treats 
more  especially  of  logic,  I  of  necessity  looked  back 
on  the  ancient  history  of  the  science,  to  show,  that 
true  logic  is  absolutely  the  same  science  with  that 
of  the  formation,  the  expression,  and  combination  of 
our  ideas ;  that  is  to  say,  that  which  has  been  since 
called  Ideology,  general  grammar,  or  analysis  of 


at  which  all  the  others  commence.  This  ought  se 
to  be,  as  I  meant  to  speak  only  of  the  science ; 
while  other  logicians,  neglecting  the  science  almost 
entirely,  have  occupied  themselves  only  with  the 
art.  I  confess  my  belief,  that  my  labour  is  more 
useful  than  theirs  ;  because,  in  every  matter,  it  is  al- 
ways very  difficult,  from  premature  consequences,  to 
remount  to  the  principles  which  ought  to  have  serv- 
ed as  their  foundation.  Whereas,  when  we  have 
well  established  the  first  truths,  it  is  easy  to  deduce 
the  consequences  which  flow  from  them.  Yet  this 
second  operation  is  important  also,  and  as  a  subject 
is  not  completely  treated  of,  but  when  it  is  execut- 
ed, I  will  present,  before  proceeding  further,  sum- 
marily, but  methodically,  the  series  of  practical 
maxims,  which  result  from  my  method  of  consider- 
ing our  means  of  knowledge.  The  use  I  shall  af- 
terwards make  of  these  same  means,  in  the  study  of 
the  will  and  its  effects,  will  be  an  example  of  the 
manner  in  which  these  rales  are  applied  in  all  our 
researches. 

APHORISM  FIRST.* 

We  know  our  existence  only  by  the  impressions 
we  experience,  and  that  of  beings  other  than  our- 
selves, but  by  the  impressions  which  they  cause  on 
us. 

Observation. 

In  like  manner,  as  all  our  propositions  may 
be  reduced  to  the  form  of  enunciative  propositions, 

*  I  have  employed  the  form  of  aphorisms,  observations  and  co- 
rollaries, in  order  to  say  the  most  in  the  fewest  words. 


because  at  bottom  they  all  express  a  judgment,  so 

all  our  enunciative  propositions  may  afterwards  be 

always  reduced  to  some  one  of  these :   I  think,  I 

feel,  or  I  perceive,  that  such  a  thing  is  in  such  a 

manner,  or  that  such  a  being  produces  such  an  tf- 

fect;  propositions  of  which  we  are  ourselves  the  sub- 

ject,  because  in  fact  we  are  always  the  subject  of 

all  our  judgments,  since  they  never  express  but  the 

impression  which  we  experience. 

Corollary. 

From  hence  it  follows :  1st.  That  our  percep- 
tions are  all  of  them  always  such  as  we  feel  them, 
and  are  not  susceptible  of  any  error,  taken  each  se- 
parately, and  in  itself. 

2dly.  That  if  in  the  different  combinations,  we 
make  of  them,  we  add  to  them  nothing  which  is  not 
primitively  comprised  in  them,  implicitly  or  explicit- 
ly, they  are  always  conformable  to  the  existence  of 
the  beings  which  cause  them,  since  that  existence  is 
not  known  to  us  but  by  them,  and  consists  for  us  on- 
ly  in  those  perceptions. 

3dly.  That  we  know  nothing  but  relatively  to 
ourselves,  and  to  our  means  of  receiving  perceptions. 
4thly.  That  these  perceptions  are  every  thing  for 
us;  that  we  know  nothing  ever  but  our  perceptions : 
that  they  are  the  only  things  truly  real  for  us,  and  that 
the  reality  which  we  recognize  in  the  beings  that 
cause  them  is  only  secondary,  and  consists  only  in 
the  permanent  power  of  always  causing  the  same 
impressions  under  the  same  circumstances,  whether 
on  ourselves,  or  on  other  sensible  beings,  who  givt 
we  an  account  of  them  (also  by  the  impressions 


6 

which  they  cause  in  us)  when  we  have  become  able 
to  hold  communication  with  them  by  signs. 

APHORISM  SECOND. 

Since  our  perceptions  are  all  of  them  always 
such  as  we  feel  them,  when  we  perceive  one  idea  in 
another,  it  is  actually  and  really  there,  from  the  ve- 
ry circumstance  of  our  perceiving  it  there:  hence 
no  one  of  our  judgments  taken  separately  and  de- 
tached, is  false.  It  has  always  and  necessarily 
the  certitude  which  belongs  inevitably  to  each  of  our 
actual  perceptions. 

Corollary. 

None  of  our  judgments  then  can  be  false,  but 
relatively  to  anterior  judgments,  and  that  suffices  to 
render  them  false  relatively  to  the  existence  of  be- 
ings,  the  causes  of  our  impressions,  if  these  anteri- 
or judgments  were  just,  relatively  to  that  exist- 
ence. 

APHORISM   THIRD. 

When  we  see  in  an  idea,  or  a  perception,  an 
element  incompatible  with  those  which  it  included 
before,  this  idea  is  different  from  what  it  was,  for, 
such  as  it  was,  it  excluded  this  new  element  which 
we  see  there ;  and,  such  as  it  is,  it  excludes  those 
which  are  incompatible  with  it. 

Corollary. 

That  it  may  then  be  the  same  idea  which  it  was 
before,  we  must  exclude  from  it  the  element  which 
we  see  there  at  present,  or  if  those  which  are  repug- 


nant  to  it,  are  misplaced  in  this  idea,  they  must 
themselves  be  excluded  from  it;  that  is  to  say,  it 
must  be  rendered  such  as  it  was,  when  they  were 
erroneously  admitted  into  it,  which  is  to  restore  it 
again  to  the  same  state  in  which  it  was,  before  it 
was  changed  by  a  false  judgment,  without  our  per- 
ceiving it. 

APHORISM  FOURTH. 

When  we  form  a  judgment  of  an  idea,  when  we 
see  in  it  a  new  element,  one  of  these  four  tilings 
must  necessarily  happen:  Either  the  judgment  which 
we  now  form  is  consequent  to  a  just  idea,  in  which 
case  it  is  just ;  and  the  idea  without  changing  its 
nature  has  only  developed  and  extended  itself. 

Or  it  is  inconsequent  to  a  just  idea,  in  which  case 
it  is  false ;  and  the  idea  is  changed,  and  is  become 
false. 

Or  it  is  consequent  to  an  idea  already  false,  then 
it  is  false,  but  the  idea  is  not  changed ;  it  is  when  it 
has  become  false  previously,  that  it  has  changed  in 
relation  to  what  it  was  primitively. 

Or  it  is  inconsequent  to  a  false  idea,  then  it  may 
be  just  or  false ;  but  never  certain,  for  the  idea  is 
changed.  But  it  may  have  become  just,  such  as  it 
was  originally,  or  false,  in  a  manner  different  from 
the  preceding. 

Observation. 

Remark  always,  that  an  idea  infected  with  false 
elements,  and  consequently  meriting  the  name  of 
jjdse,  taken  in  mass,  may  also  contain  many  true 


8 

elements.  We  may  form  then,  in  consequence  of 
these  true  elements,  just  judgments,  and  then  they 
will  be  completely  true  ;  as  we  may  also  form  from 
them  false  judgments,  which  shall  be  completely 
false  *  but  these  judgments  will  not  be  formed  from 
that  idea,  inasmuch  as  it  is  false,  and  in  consequence 
of  that  which  it  has  of  falsity  ;  they  ought  therefore 
to  be  considered  as  formed  from  a  true  idea,  and  en- 
ter into  what  we  have  said  of  these. 

This  is  what  most  frequently  happens  to  us,  so 
few  compound  ideas  have  we  which  are  perfectly 
pure,  and  without  mixture  of  imperfection.  Perhaps 
we  have  none.  Perhaps  it  would  suffice  for  us  to 
have  one  alone,  to  render  all  our  others  the  samer 
by  the  sole  force  of  their  relations  and  combinations, 
proximate  or  remote. 

APHORISM  FIFTH. 

Thus  all  our  perceptions  are  originally  just  and 
true,  and  error  is  only  introduced  to  them  at  the  mo- 
ment when  we  admit  an  element  which  is  opposed 
to  them.  That  is  to  say,  which  denaturalises  and 
changes  them,  without  our  perceiving  it. 

APHORISM  SIXTH. 

This  would  never  happen  to  us,  if  we  had  al- 
ways present  to  the  mind,  that  which  the  idea  com- 
ports, of  which  we  judge.  Thus  all  our  errors  real- 
ly come  from  this  :  that  we  represent  the  idea  im- 
perfectly to  ourselves. 


APHORISM  SEVENTH. 

What  precedes  not  appertaining  to  any  circum- 
stance peculiar  to  any  one  of  our  perceptions  rather 
than  to  another,  agrees  generally  with  all. 

Corollary. 

Hence  it  follows,  1st.  That  our  manner  of  pro- 
ceeding  is  the  same  for  our  ideas  of  every  kind. 

&dly.  That  all  our  errors  originate  from  the  ba- 
sis of  our  ideas,  and  not  from  the  form  of  our  reason- 
ings. 

3dly.  That  all  the  rules  which  can  be  prescribed 
for  the  forms  of  these  reasonings,  can  contribute  noth- 
ing to  avoid  error  5  or  at  least  can  contribute  to  it  but 
accidentally. 

APHORISM  EIGHTH. 

We  have  then  no  other  effectual  means  of  avoid- 
ing error,  but  to  assure  ourselves  well  of  the  com- 
prehension of  the  idea  of  which  we  judge,  that  is  to 
say,  of  the  elements  of  which  it  is  composed. 

Observation. 

That  is  not  possible,  unless  we  commence  by 
well  determining  the  extension  of  this  idea,  for  it 
contains  many  elements  in  certain  degrees  of  its  ex- 
tension, which  it  does  not  in  others,  that  is  to 
say,  it  is  not  exactly  similar  to  itself,  it  is  not  rigo- 
rously the  same  idea  in  their  different  degrees  of 
extension. 


10 

APHORISM    NINTH. 

This  general  and  only  method  embraces  several 
others,  and  first  that  of  studying  with  care  the  ob- 
ject, or  objects,  from  which  the  idea  in  question, 
emanates,  and  afterwards  that  of  guarding  ourselves 
with  the  same  care  from  the  affections,  passions, 
prejudices,  dispositions,  habits  and  manners  of  be- 
ing, by  which  the  idea  could  be  altered. 

Observation. 

These  two  precautions  are  necessary,  the  first  to 
assemble,  as  far  as  possible,  all  the  elements  whick 
really  appertain  to  the  idea  in  question,  the  se- 
cond to  separate  from  it  in  like  manner  all  those 
which  are  foreign  to  it,  and  which  might  mingle 
themselves  with  it,  and  alter  it,  without  our  per- 
ceiving it. 

APHORISM  TENTH. 

After  these  two  necessary  preliminaries,  if  we 
are  still  in  doubt  as  to  the  judgment  we  are  to  form, 
the  most  useful  expedient  of  which  we  can  avail 
ourselves,  is  to  make  an  enumeration  the  most  com- 
plete possible  of  the  elements  composing  the  ideay 
which  is  the  subject  of  the  judgment,  and  principal- 
ly of  those  which  have  relation  to  the  idea  which  we 
propose  to  attribute  to  it,  that  is  to  say,  to  the  attri- 
bute of  the  contemplated  judgment. 

Observation. 

The  effect  of  this  operation  is  to  recal  to  our- 
selves, or  to  those  whom  we  wish  to  convince  of  the 


11 

truth  or  falsity  of  a  proposition,  the  elements  of  the 
subject  which  implicitly  comprehend  the  proposed 
attribute,  or  which  on  the  contrary  may  exclude  it. 

It  is  the  object  which  the  logicians  propose  to  at- 
tain by  what  they  call  definitions  ;  but  in  my  opi- 
nion they  fall  into  several  errors  relatively  to  defi- 
nitions, and  they  greatly  mistake  their  effects  and 
properties. 

1st.  They  believe  that  there  are  definitions 
of  words,  and  definitions  of  things,  while  in  truth 
there  are  none  but  definitions  of  ideas.  When  I  ex- 
plain the  sense  of  a  word,  I  do  nothing  but  explain 
the  idea  which  I  have  when  I  pronounce  that  word, 
and  when  I  explain  what  a  being  is,  I  still  do  noth- 
ing but  explain  the  idea  I  have  of  that  being,  and 
which  I  express  when  I  pronounce  its  name. 

2i\.  They  aver  that  definitions  are  principled, 
and  that  we  cannot  dispute  about  definitions.  These 
two  assertions  are  contraries,  and  yet  both  of  them 
false. 

In  the  first  place  they  are  contradictory,  for  if  de- 
finitions are  principles,  we  can  and  we  ought  fre- 
quently to  question  their  truth,  as  we  ought  never 
to  recognise  any  principle  as  true  without  a  previ- 
ous examination,  and  if  we  cannot  contest  defini- 
tions, they  cannot  be  principles,  since  every  princi- 
ple should  be  proved  before  it  is  admitted. 

Again,  these  two  assertions  are  both  false.  De- 
finitions are  not  principles ;  for  facts  are  the  on- 
ly true  principles ;  and  definitions  are  not  facts, 
but  simple  explanations  founded  on  facts,  as  all 
our  other  propositions  whatsoever.  Now  we  may 
contest  a  definition,  as  every  other  proposition  3-  for 


when  I  explain  the  idea  that  I  have  of  a  being,  I 
do  not  pretend  to  say  merely  that  I  have  this  idea  ; 
I  pretend  also  to  affirm  that  this  idea  agrees  with 
that  being,  and  that  we  may  so  conceive  it  without 
error ;  now  .this  is  what  may  be  false,  and  what 
may  be  contested.  So  also  when  I  explain  the  idea 
which  I  have  of  the  sense  of  a  word,  I  do  not 
solely  pretend  that  I  have  this  idea,  I  pretend 
further  that  it  does  not  affect  the  real  relations  of 
this  word  with  an  infinity  of  others,  that  we  may 
employ  it  in  this  sense  without  inconvenience  and 
without  inconsequence ;  now  this  is  what  again 
may  be  contested  with  reason.  In  fine,  if  I  should 
pretend  by  a  definition  only  to  explain  the  com- 
plex and  compound  idea  that  I  have  actually  in  my 
head,  yet  it  should  always  be  allowed  to  show  me 
that  this  idea  is  badly  formed,  that  it  is  composed 
of  judgments  inconsequent  the  one  to  the  other, 
and  that  it  includes  contradictory  elements.  Then 
definitions  never  are  principles,  and  yet  they  al- 
ways are  contcstible. 

3dly.  The  logicians  have  believed  that  the  defi- 
nition is  good,  and  that  the  idea  defined  is  perfectly 
explained  when  they  have  determined  it,  per  genus 
proicimum  et  differentiam  specijicam,  as  they  say  ; 
that  is  to  say,  when  they  have  expressed  that  one 
of  its  elements  which  consti  tutes  it  of  such  a  genus, 
and  the  one  which  in  this  genus  distinguishes  it 
from  the  ideas  of  the  neighbouring  species.  Now 
this  is  still  false,  and  is  only  founded  on  the  fantas- 
tical doctrine,  in  virtue  of  which  they  believed  they 
were  able  to  dish-Unite  all  our  ideas  into  different 
arbitrary  classes  called  categories. 


13 

That  is  false,  first,  because  these  arbitrary  classi- 
fications never  represent  nature.  Our  ideas  are  con- 
nected the  one  to  the  other  by  a  thousand  different 
relations.  Seen  under  one  aspect  they  are  of  one 
genus,  and  under  another  they  are  of  another  ge- 
nus ;  subsequently  each  of  them  depends  on  an  in- 
numerable multitude  of  proximate  ideas,  by  an  infi- 
nity of  relations,  of  natures  so  different  that  we  can- 
not compare  them  together,  to  decide  which  is  the 
least  remote.  Thus  we  can  never,  or  almost  never 
find  really  the  proximate  genus  or  specific  difference 
which  deserves  exclusively  to  characterise  an  idea. 

Moreover,  if  we  should  have  found  in  this  idea 
the  elements  which  in  fact  determine  the  genus  and 
species  in  which  it  is  reasonably  permitted  to  class 
it,  the  idea  would  still  be  far  from  sufficiently  ex- 
plained, to  be  well  known. 

These  two  elements  might  even  be  absolutely  fo- 
reign to  the  decision  of  the  question  which  may 
have  given  place  to  the  definition.  Assuredly  when 
I  say  that  gold  is  a  metal,  and  the  heaviest  of  me- 
tals except  platina,  I  have  correctly  ranged  gold 
in  the  genus  of  beings  to  which  it  belongs,  and  I 
have  distinguished  it  by  a  characteristic  difference 
from  those  nearest  to  it  in  that  genus.  Yet  this 
does  not  help  me  to  know  whether  the  use  of  gold, 
as  money,  is  useful  to  commerce,  or  pernicious  to 
morality,  nor  even  whether  it  is  the  most  ductile  of 
metals.  The  two  first  questions  depend  on  ideas 
too  foreign  to  those  which  fix  gold  in  a  certain 
place  amongst  metals;  and  though  the  latter  maybe 
less  distant,  yet  we  do  not  know  the  direct  and  ne- 
cessary relation  between  weight  and  ductility. 


Logicians  have  been  mistaken  respecting  the  na- 
ture, the  effects  and  properties  of  definitions.  They 
are  incapable  of  answering  the  end  which  they  pro- 
pose to  attain  by  their  means,  that  of  presenting 
the  idea  of  which  we  are  to  judge  in  such  a  man- 
ner that  we  cannot  avoid  forming  a  just  judgment. 
The  only  mean  of  attaining  this  is  to  make  the 
best  description  possible  of  the  idea,  and  with  th« 
precautions  which  we  have  indicated. 

ILemark. 

It  is  necessary  to  observe  that  all  that  we  have 
advised  in  the  8th,  9th  and  10th  aphorisms,  and  al- 
so what  we  shall  advise  hereafter  to  be  done,  to 
know  well  the  idea,  the  subject  of  the  judgment  in 
question  is  equally  applicable  to  the  idea  which  is 
the  attribute  of  the  same  judgment,  a  knowledge  of 
which  is  equally  essential,  and  can  only  be  acquir- 
ed by  the  same  mean. 

APHORISM    ELEVENTH. 

The  means  indicated  above  of  knowing  well  the 
idea  of  which  we  are  to  judge,  are  the  only  re- 
ally efficacious  ones  in  bringing  us  to  the  formation, 
of  just  judgments;  but  they  may  very  possibly  be  in- 
sufficient to  give  us  a  certitude  of  having  succeeded. 
We  must  therefore  add  subsidiary  means. 

APHORISM  TWELFTH. 

The  best  and  most  useful  of  our  secondary  means 
is  to  see,  on  the  one  hand,  if  the  judgment  we  are 
te  form  is  not  in  opposition  to  anterior  judgments, 


15 

of  the  certitude  of  which  we  are  assured;  and  on  the 
other  if  it  does  not  necessarily  lead  to  consequences 
manifestly  false. 

Remark. 

The  first  point  is  that  which  has  so  strongly  ac- 
credited the  usage  of  general  propositions  ;  for,  as 
we  can  confront  them  with  a  number  of  particular 
propositions,  we  have  frequently  had  recourse  there- 
to, and  we  have  habituated  ourselves  to  remount  no 
further,  and  to  believe  that  they  are  the  primitive 
source  of  truth.  The  second  is  the  motive  of  all 
those  reasonings  which  consist  in  a  reduction  to 
what  is  absurd. 

Observation. 

The  process  recommended  in  this  aphorism  is  a 
species  of  proof  to  which  we  submit  the  projected 
operation.  It  is  very  useful  to  avoid  error,  for  if 
the  judgment  we  examine  is  found  in  opposition  to 
anterior  ones  which  are  just,  or  necessarily  connect- 
ed with  false  consequences,  it  is  evidently  necessary 
to  reject  it ;  but  this  same  process  does  not  lead  us 
directly  and  necessarily  to  truth,  for  it  may  be  that 
no  determining  motive  for  the  affirmative  may  result 
from  the  research. 

APHORISM    THIRTEENTH. 

In  a  case  in  which  we  want  decisive  reasons  to 
determine  us,  no  other  resource  is  left  us  but  to  en- 
deavour to  obtain  new  lights,  that  is  to  say,  to  in- 
troduce new  elements  into  the  idea  which  is  the  sub- 


16 

ject  of  the  judgment  we  are  to  form.  This  can  be 
done  in  two  ways  only,  either  by  seeking  to  collect 
new  facts,  or  by  endeavouring  to  make  of  those  al- 
ready known  combinations  which  had  not  previous- 
ly occurred  to  us,  and  thence  to  draw  consequences 
which  we  had  not  before  remarked. 

Observation. 

The  advice  contained  in  this  aphorism,  is  only 
the  developement  of  the  first  part  of  aphorism  9th, 
and  it  can  be  nothing  else  ;  for  when  we  are  assur- 
ed that  we  are  not  sufficiently  acquainted  with  a 
subject  to  judge  of  it,  there  is  no  other  resource  but 
to  study  it  more. 

APHORISM    FOURTEENTH. 

Finally,  when  the  motives  of  determination  fail 
us  invincibly,  we  should  know  how  to  remain  in 
complete  doubt,  and  to  suspend  absolutely  our  judg- 
ment, rather  than  rest  it  on  vain  and  confused  ap- 
pearances,  since  in  these  we  can  never  be  sure  that 
there  are  not  some  false  elements. 

Remark  and  conclusion. 

This  is  the  last  and  most  essential  of  logical  prin- 
ciples ;  for  in  following  it  we  may  possibly  remain 
in  ignorance,  but  we  can  never  fall  into  error  ;  all 
our  errors  arising  always  from  admitting  into  that 
which  we  know  elements  which  are  not  really 
there,  and  which  lead  us  to  consequences  which 
ought  not  to  follow  from  those  that  are  there  effec 
tively. 


17 

In  effect,  if  from  our  first  impressions  the  most 
simple  to  our  most  general  ideas,  and  their  most 
complicated  combinations,  we  have  never  recogniz- 
ed in  our  successive  perceptions  but  what  is  there, 
our  last  combinations  would  be  as  irreproachable  as 
the  first  act  of  our  sensibility.  Thus,  in  logical  ri- 
gour, it  is  very  certain  that  we  ought  never  to  form 
a  judgment  but  when  we  see  clearly  that  the  subject 
includes  the  attributes  :  that  is  to  say,  that  the  judg- 
ment is  just. 

But  at  the  same  time  it  is  also  very  certain  that  in 
the  course  of  life  we  seldom  arrive  at  certitude,  and 
are  frequently  obliged,  nevertheless,  to  form  a  reso* 
lution  provisionally ;  to  form  none  being  often  to 
adopt  one  of  the  most  decisive  character,  without 
renouncing  the  principle  we  have  just  laid  down,  or 
in  any  manner  derogating  from  it.  It  is  now 
proper  to  speak  of  the  theory  of  probability.  It  is 
a  subject  I  encounter  with  reluctance.  First,  be- 
cause it  is  very  difficult,  and  as  yet  very  little  eluci- 
dated ;  next,  because  one  cannot  hope  to  treat  it  pro- 
foundly when  one  is  not  perfectly  familiar  with  the 
combinations  of  the  science  of  quantities,  and  of  the 
language  proper  to  them*  Finally,  because  even 
with  these  means  the  nature  of  the^subject  deprives 
us  of  the  hope  of  arriving  at  almost  any  certain  re- 
sult, and  leaves  us  only  that  of  a  good  calculation  of 
chances.  Let  us,  however,  endeavour  to  form  to  our- 
selves an  accurate  and  just  idea  of  it ;  this  will  per- 
haps be  already  to  contribute  to  its  progress. 

The  science  of  probability  is  not  a  part  of  logic, 
and  ought  not  even  to  be  regarded  as  forming  a  sup* 
8 


18 

plement  to  it.  Logic  teaches  us  to  form  just  judg- 
ments, and  to  make  series  of  judgments  :  that  is  to 
say,  of  reasonings  which  are  consequent.  Now, 
properly  speaking,  there  are  no  judgments  or  series 
of  judgments  which  are  probahle.  When  we  judge 
that  an  opinion  or  a  fact  is  prohahle,  we  judge  it  po- 
sitively ;  and  this  judgment  is  just,  false,  or  presump- 
tuous, according  as  we  have  perfectly  or  imperfectly 
observed  the  principles  of  the  art  of  logic.  But  it 
will  be  said,  that  the  science  of  probability  in  teach- 
ing us  to  estimate  this  probability  of  an  opinion^ 
teaches  us  to  judge  justly  whether  this  opinion  is  or 
is  not  probable.  I  admit  it :  but  it  produces  this  ef- 
fect as  the  science  of  the  properties  of  bodies,  phy- 
sics, teaches  us  to  form  the  judgment  that  such  a 
property  appertains  to  such  a  body  ;  as  the  science 
of  extension  teaches  us  to  form  the  judgment  thai 
such  a  theorem  results  from  the  properties  of  such  a 
figure;  as  the  science  of  quantity  teaches  us  that 
such  a  number  is  the  result  of  such  a  calculation  ; 
finally,  as  all  the  sciences  teach  us  to  form  sound 
judgments  of  the  objects,  which  belong  to  their 
province.  Nevertheless  we  cannot  say,  and  we  do 
not  say,  that  they  are  but  parts  of  logic,  nor  even 
that  they  are  supplements  to  it.  They  all  on  the  con- 
trary throw  light  on  the  subjects  of  which  they  treat 
only  in  consequence  of  the  means  and  processes  with 
which  they  are  furnished  by  sound  logic.  This  is 
useful  to  all  the  sciences  ;  but  none  of  them  either  aid 
it  immediately,  supply  its  place,  make  a  part  of  it, 
or  are  supplements  to  it.  The  science  of  probability 
has  in  this  respect  no  particular  privileges  under 
this  aspect ;  it  is  a  science  similar  to  all  the  others. 


19 

But  I  go  farther ;  the  science  to  which  we  have 
given  the  name  of  the  science  of  probability,  is  not 
a  science :  or  to  explain  myself  more  clearly,  we 
comprehend  erroneously  under  this  collective  and 
common  name  a  multitude  of  sciences  or  of  portions 
of  sciences  quite  different  among  themselves,  stran- 
gers to  one  another,  and  which  it  is  impossible  to 
unite  without  confounding  them  all.  In  effect,  that 
which  is  called  commonly  the  science  of  probabili- 
ty comprehends  two  very  distinct  parts,  of  which 
one  is  the  research,  and  the  valuation  of  data,  the 
other  is  the  calculation,  or  the  combination  of  these 
same  data. 

Now  the  success  of  the  research  and  valuation  of.' 
data,  if  the  question  is  on  the  probability  of  a  narra- 
tion, consists  in  a  knowledge  of  the  circumstances, 
proper  to  the  fact  in  itself,  and  to  all  those  who  have 
spoken  of  it : — thus  it  depends  on  and  forms  a  part 
of  the  science  of  history.  If  the  question  is  on  the 
probability  of  a  physical  event,  this  research  of  data 
consists  in  acquiring  a  knowledge  of  anterior  facts 
and  of  their  connection  : — thus  it  appertains  to  phy- 
sics. If  the  question  is  on  the  probable  results  of 
a  social  institution,  or  of  the  deliberations  of  an 
assembly  of  men,  the  anterior  facts  are  the  details 
of  the  social  organization,  or  of  the  intellectual  dis- 
positions and  operations  of  these  men  : — thus  it  de- 
pends on  social  and  moral  science,  or  on  ideology. 
Finally,  when  it  is  only  to  foresee  the  chances  of  the 
play  of  cross  and  pile,  the  data  would  be  the  con- 
struction of  the  piece,  the  manner  of  resistance  of  the 
medium  in  which  it  moves,  that  of  the  bodies  against 
which  it  may  strike,  the  motion  proper  to  the 


20 

arm  which  casts  it,  and  which  are  more  or  less  easy 
to  it.  Thus  these  data  would  still  depend  on  the 
physical  constitution  of  animate  and  inanimate  bo- 
dies. Then  as  to  the  research  of  data,  and  to  the 
fixation  of  their  importance,  the  pretended  science 
of  probability  is  composed  of  a  multitude  of  differ- 
ent sciences,  according  to  the  subject  on  which  it  is 
employed  ;  and  consequently  it  is  not  a  particular 
science. 

As  to  the  combination  of  the  data  once  established, 
the  science  of  probability  is  nothing,  when  we  em- 
ploy calculation  therein,  but  the  science  of  quantity 
or  of  calculation  itself;  for  the  difficulty  does  not 
consist  in  giving  to  abstract  unity  any  concrete  value 
whatever,  and  sometimes  one  and  sometimes  ano- 
ther, but  in  knowing  all  the  resources  which  perfect 
calculation  furnishes  to  make  of  this  unity  and  of 
all  its  multiplied  combinations  the  most  complicat- 
ed, and  to  connect  them  regularly  without  losing 
their  clue. 

We  see  then  that  neither  in  regard  to  the  research 
and  valuation  of  data,  nor  in  regard  to  the  combina- 
tions of  these  same  data,  the  pretended  science  of 
probability  is  not  a  particular  science  distinct  from 
every  other. 

We  might  rather  consider  it  either  as  a  branch  of 
the  science  of  quantities,  and  as  an  employment 
which  we  make  of  it  in  certain  parts  of  several  dif- 
ferent sciences  which  are  susceptible  of  this  appli- 
cation, or  as  the  reunion  of  scattered  portions  of  ma- 
ny sciences,  strangers  the  one  to  the  other,  which 
have  only  so  much  in  common  as  to  give  place  to 
such  questions  as  can  only  be  resolved  by  a  very 


learned  and  very  delicate  employment  of  the  admi- 
rable means  of  calculation  furnished  by  the  science 
of  quantities  in  the  state  of  perfection  which  it  has 
at  this  time  attained ;  but  this  is  not  seeing  the  the- 
ory of  probability  in  its  full  extent,  for  we  cannot 
always  employ  calculation  in  the  estimation  of  pro- 
bability. Nevertheless  this  manner  of  considering 
and  decomposing  what  is  called  the  science  of  pro- 
bability explains  to  us  already  many  of  the  things 
which  concern  it,  and  puts  us  in  the  way  of  form- 
ing to  ourselves  an  accurate  and  complete  idea  of  it. 

We  see  first  why  it  is  the  mathematicians  who 
have  had  the  idea  of  it,  and  who  have,  if  we  may 
so  say,  created  .andmade  it  entirely.  It  is  because 
such  as  they  have  conceived  it,  it  consists  principal- 
ly in  the  employment  of  a  powerful  agent  which  was 
at  their  disposal ;  they  have  been  able  to  push  to  a 
great  length  speculations  which  other  men  have 
been  obliged  to  abandon  in  consequence  of  a  want 
of  means  to  pursue  them. 

We  also  see  why  these  mathematicians  principal- 
ly and  almost  entirely  employed  them  selves  on  sub- 
jects of  which  the  data  are  very  simple,  such  as 
the  chances  of  games  of  hazard,  and  of  lotteries,  or 
the  effects  of  the  interest  of  money  lent ;  it  is  be- 
cause their  principal  advantage  consisting  in  their 
great  skill  in  calculation,  they  have  with  reason  pre- 
ferred the  objects  where  this  art  is  almost  every 
thing,  and  where  the  choice  and  valuation  of  data 
present  scarcely  any  difficulty ;  and  it  is  in  fact  in 
cases  of  this  kind  that  they  have  obtained  a  success 
both  curious  and  useful. 


We  moreover  see  why  it  is  that  all  the  efforts 
of  these  mathematicians,  even  the  most  skilful, 
when  they  have  undertaken  to  treat  in  the  same 
manner  subjects  of  which  the  data  were  numerous, 
subtile  and  complicated,  have  produced  little  else 
than  witty  conceits  which  may  be  called  dijficiles 
tmgae,  learned  trifles.  It  is  because  the  farther 
they  have  pursued  the  consequences  resulting  from 
the  small  number  of  data  which  they  have  been 
able  to  obtain,  the  farther  they  have  departed 
from  the  consequences  which  these  same  data 
would  have  produced,  united  with  all  those  of- 
ten more  important,  which  they  have  been  obliged 
to  neglect  from  inability  to '  unravel  and  appre- 
ciate them.  This  is  the  cause  why  we  have  seen 
great  calculators,  after  the  most  learned  combina- 
tions, give  us  forms  of  balloting  the  most  defective, 
not  having  taken  into  account  a  thousand  circum- 
stances, inherent  in  the  nature  of  men  and  of  things, 
attending  only  to  the  circumstance  of  the  number  of 
the  one  and  of  the  other.  It  is  the  reason  why  Con- 
dorcet  himself,  when  he  undertook  to  apply  the 
theory  of  probabilities  to  the  decisions  of  assemblies, 
and  particularly  to  the  judgments  of  tribunals,  ei- 
ther has  not  ventured  to  decide  any  thing  on  actual 
institutions,  and  has  confined  himself  to  reasoning 
on  imaginary  hypothesis,  or  has  often  been  led  to 
expedients  absolutely  impracticable,  or  which  would 
have  ir^conveniencies  more  serious  than  those  he 
wished  to  avoid. 

Whatever  respect  I  bear  to  the  great  intelligence 
and  high  capacity  of  this  truly  superior  and  ever  to 
be  regretted  man,  I  do  not  fear  to  pass  so  bold  a 


sentence  on  this  part  of  his  labors,  for  T  am  in  some 
measure  authorized  to  do  it  by  himself.  The  title 
of  Essay  which  he  has  given  to  his  treatise,  and  the 
motto  which  he  has  prefixed  to  it,  prove  how  much 
he  doubted  of  the  success  of  such  an  enterprise,  and 
what  confirms  it  is,  that  in  his  last  work,  composed 
on  the  eve  of  an  unfortunate  death,  in  which  he  has 
traced  with  so  firm  a  hand  the  history  of  the  pro- 
gress of  the  human  mind,  and  in  which  he  has  as- 
signed to  the  theory  of  probabilities  so  gr^at  a  part 
in  the  future  success  of  the  moral  sciences,  he  uses 
with  all  the  candour  which  characterises  him  these 
expressions,  page  362 — "  This  application,  not- 
withstanding the  happy  efforts  of  some  geometri- 
cians, is  still,  if  I  may  so  say,  but  in  its  first  ele- 
ments, and  it  must  open  to  following  generations  a 
source  of  intelligence  truly  inexhaustible."  Yet  he 
had  then  made  not  only  the  learned  essay  of  which 
we  are  speaking,  but  also  a  work  greatly  superior, 
the  elements  of  the  calculation  of  probabilities  and 
of  its  application  to  games  of  hazard,  to  lotteries 
and  to  the  judgments  of  men,  which  were  not  pub- 
lished till  the  year  1805. 

I  believe,  then,  that  I  have  advanced  nothing  rash 
in  observing  that  in  subjects  difficult  by  the  number, 
subtility,  complexity  and  intimate  connexion  of  the 
circumstances  to  be  considered,  without  the  omis- 
sion of  any  of  them,  the  great  talent  of  well  com- 
bining those,  not  sufficiently  numerous,  which  have 
been  perceived,  has  not  been  sufficient  to  preserve 
the  most  skilful  calculators  from  important  errors 
and  great  misreckonings.  We  perceive  that  that 
was  to  be  expected.  But  now  Imuet  go  further,  and 


all  tliis  leads  ine  to  a  last  reflection,  which  flows 
from  the  nature  of  things,  like  those  which  have 
just  been  read,  which  confirms  several  important 
principles  established  in  the  preceding  volumes, 
which  far  from  annihilating  the  great  hopes  of  Con- 
dorcet  tends  to  assure  and  realise  them,  by  restrain- 
ing them  within  certain  limits ;  but  which  appear 
to  me  to  show  manifestly,  how  far  the  calculation 
of  probabilities  is  from  being  the  same  thing  with 
the  theory  of  probability.  Observe  in  what  this 
observation  consists. 

The  principal  object  of  the  theory  of  probability 
and  its  great  utility,  is  in  setting  out  from  the  reu- 
nion of  a  certain  number  of  given  causes,  to  deter- 
mine the  degree  of  the  probability  of  the  effects 
which  ought  to  follow  ;  and  setting  out  from  the  re- 
union of  a  certain  number  of  known  effects,  to  de- 
termine the  degree  of  the  probability  of  the  causes, 
which  have  been  able  to  produce  them.  We  may 
even  say  that  all  the  results  of  this  theory  are  but 
different  branches  of  this  general  result,  and  may 
be  traced  to  be  nothing  more  than  parts  of  it. 

Now  we  have  previously  seen,  and  on  different' 
occasions,  that  for  beings  of  any  kind,  to  be  success- 
fully submitted  to  the  action  of  calculation,  it  is  ne- 
cessary they  should  be  susceptible  of  adaptation  to 
the  clear,  precise  and  invariable  divisions  of  the 
ideas  of  quantity,  and  to  the  series  of  the  names  of 
numbers  and  of  cyphers,  which  express  them.  This 
is  a  condition  necessary  to  the  validity  of  every  cal- 
culation from  which  that  which  has  probability  for 
its  object,  cannot  be  any  more  exempt,  than  that 
which  conducts  to  absolute  certainty. 


Hence  it  rigorously  follows,  that  there  is  a  mul- 
titude of  subjects  of  which  it  would  be  absolutely 
impossible  to  calculate  the  data,  if  even  (which  is 
not  always  the  case)  it  should  be  possible  to  collect 
them  all  without  overlooking  any. 

Assuredly  the  degrees  of  the  capacity,  of  the  pro- 
bity of  men,  those  of  the  energy  and  the  power  of 
their  passions,  prejudices  and  habits,  cannot  possi- 
bly be  estimated  in  numbers.  It  is  the  same  as  to 
the  degrees  of  influence  of  certain  institutions,  or  of 
certain  functions,  of  the  degrees  of  importance  of 
certain  establishments,  of  the  degrees  of  difficulty  of 
certain  discoveries,  of  the  degrees  of  utility  of  cer- 
tain inventions,  or  of  certain  processes.  I  know  that 
of  these  quantities,  truly  inappreciable  and  innu- 
merable in  all  the  rigour  of  the  word,  we  seek  and 
even  attain  to  a  certain  point,  in  determining  the  li- 
mits, by  means  of  number,  of  the  frequency  and  ex^ 
tent  of  their  effects;  but  I  also  know  that  in  these 
effects  which  we  are  obliged  to  sum  and  number  to- 
gether as  things  perfectly  similar,  in  order  to  de- 
duce results,  it  is  almost  always  and  I  may  say  al- 
ways impossible  to  unravel  the  alterations  and  va- 
riations of  concurrent  causes,  of  influencing  circum- 
stances, and  of  a  thousand  essential  considerations; 
so  that  we  are  necessitated  to  arrange  together  as 
similar  a  multitude  of  things  very  different,  to  arrive 
only  at  those  preparatory  results  which  are  after- 
wards to  lead  to  others  which  cannot  fail  to  become 
entirely  fantastical. 

Is  an  example  desired,  very  striking,  drawn  from 
a  subject  which  surely  does  not  present  as  many 
difficulties  of  this  kind  as  moral  ideas?     Here  is 
4 


26 

one.  Certainly  none  of  those  who  have  undertaken 
to  estimate  the  effort  of  the  muscles  of  the  heart, 
have  erred  against  the  rules  of  calculation,  nor,  what 
is  more,  against  the  laws  of  animated  mechanics, 
the  certainty  of  which  should  still  preserve  them 
from  many  errors.  Yet  some  have  been  led  to  estimate 
this  effort  at  several  thousands  of  pounds,  and  others 
only  at  some  ounces  ;  and  nobody  knows  with  cer- 
tainty which  are  nearest  to  truth.  What  succour 
then  can  we  derive  from  calculation,  when  even 
availing  ourselves  properly  of  it  we  are  subject  to 
such  aberrations  and  to  such  prodigious  incertitude  ? 
It  is  then  true,  and  I  repeat  it,  that  there  is  a 
multitude  of  things  to  which  the  calculation  of  pro- 
babilities like  every  other  calculation  is  completely 
inapplicable.  These  things  are  much  more  nume- 
rous than  is  generally  believed,  and  even  by  many 
very  skilful  men,  and  the  first  step  to  be  taken  in 
the  science  of  probability  is  to  know  how  to  distin- 
guish them.  It  is  for  the  science  of  the  formation 
of  our  ideas,  for  that  of  the  operations  of  our  intelli- 
gence, in  a  word  for  sound  ideology,  to  teach  us 
the  number  of  these  things,  to  enable  us  to  know 
their  nature,  and  to  show  us  the  reasons  why  they 
are  so  refractory.  And  it  is  a  great  service  which 
it  will  render  to  the  human  mind,  by  prevent- 
ing it  in  future  from  making  a  pernicious  use  of  one 
of  its  most  excellent  instruments.  It  already  shows 
tas  that  the  science  of  probability  is  a  thing  very 
distinct  from  the  calculation  of  probability  with 
which  it  has  been  confounded,  since  it  extends  to 
many  objects  to  which  the  other  cannot  attain.  This 
is  what  I  principally  proposed  to  elucidate. 


37 

finally,  as  I  have  before  announced,  this  obser- 
vation does  not  destroy  the  great  hopes  which  the 
pirecing  genius  of  Condorcet  had  made  him  conceive 
from  the  employment  of  calculation  in  general,  and 
from  that  of  probability  in  particular,  in  the  ad- 
vancement of  the  moral  sciences ;  for  if  the  different 
shades  of  our  moral  ideas  cannot  be  expressed  in 
numbers,  and  if  there  are  many  other  things  rela- 
tive to  social  science,  which  are  equally  incapable 
of  being  estimated  and  calculated  directly,  these 
things  depend  on  others  which  often  render  them 
reducible  to  calculable  quantities,  if  we  may  use  the 
expression.  Thus  for  example,  the  degrees  of  the 
value  of  all  things  useful  and  agreeable,  that  is  to 
say,  the  degrees  of  interest  we  attach  to  their  pos- 
session cannot  be  noted  directly  by  figures,  but  all 
those  which  can  be  represented  by  quantities  of 
weight  or  extension  of  a  particular  thing,  become 
calculable  and  even  comparable  the  one  with  the 
other;  in  like  manner  the  energy  and  durability 
of  the  secret  springs  which  cause  and  preserve  the 
action  of  the  organs  constituting  our  life  are  not 
susceptible  of  direct  appreciation,  but  we  judge  of 
them  by  their  effects.  Time  and  different  kinds  of 
resistance  and  waste  are  susceptible  of  very  exact 
divisions.  This  is  sufficient  for  us,  and  we  derive 
thence  a  great  multitude  of  results  and  of  valuable 
combinations ;  now  there  is  an  infinity  of  things  in 
the  moral  sciences  which  offer  us  similar  resources; 
but  there  are  also  many  which  offer  none,  and  once 
more  it  is  of  great  importance  to  discriminate  per- 
fectly between  them :  For  first,  in  respect  to  these 
latter,  every  employment  of  calculation  is  abusive ; 


28 

and  moreover  there  are  often  species  of  quantities 
presented  which  appear  calculable,  but  which  are 
inextricably  complicated  by  mixture  with  those 
other  species  of  quantities  which  I  permit  myself 
to  call  refractory,  and  then  if  calculation  be  applied 
thereto,  the  most  skilful  mathematicians  are  inevi- 
tably led  into  enormous  errors  ;  against  this  in  my 
opinion  they  have  not  always  been  sufficiently  on 
their  guard.  As  to  these  two  latter  cases  we  may 
say  of  calculation  what  has  been  said  of  the  syllo- 
gistic art  as  to  all  our  reasonings  whatsoever;  that 
is,  that  it  conducts  our  mind  much  less  correctly 
than  the  simple  light  of  good  sense  aided  by  suffi- 
cient attention. 

This  is  all  I  had  to  observe  on  the  science  and 
calculation  of  probability,  and  I  draw  from  it  the 
following  consequences :  The  theory  of  probability 
is  neither  a  part  of  nor  a  supplement  to  logic.  This 
theory  moreover  is  not  a  science  separate  and  dis- 
tinct from  all  others.  All  sciences  have  a  positive 
and  a  conjectural  part.  In  all  of  them  the  positive 
part  consists  in  distinguishing  the  effects  which  al- 
ways and  necessarily  follow  certain  causes,  and  the 
causes  which  always  and  necessarily  produce  certain 
effects.  In  all  of  them  also  the  conjectural  part  con- 
sists in  proceeding  from  the  reunion  of  a  certain 
number  of  given  causes  to  determine  the  degrees  of 
probability  of  the  effects  which  ought  to  follow  from 
them,  and  in  proceeding  from  the  reunion  of  a  cer- 
tain number  of  known  effects  to  determine  the  de- 
gree of  probability  of  the  causes  which  have  been 
able  to  produce  them.  In  these  two  parts,  when  the 
ideas  compared  are  not  of  a  nature  to  comport  with 


39 

the  application  of  the  names  of  numbers  and  of  fi- 
gures, we  can  only  employ  the  ordinary  instruments 
of  reasoning,  that  is  to  say  our  vulgar  languages, 
their  forms,  and  the  words  which  compose  them. 
In  these  two  parts  equally  when  the  ideas  compar- 
ed by  the  clearness,  constancy,  and  precision  of  their 
subdivisions  are  susceptible  of  adaptation  to  the  di- 
visions of  the  series  of  the  names  of  numbers,  and 
of  figures,  we  can  employ  with  great  advantage,  in- 
stead of  the  ordinary  instruments  of  reasoning,  the 
instruments  proper  to  the  science  of  the  ideas  of 
quantity,  that  is  to  say,  the  language  of  calculation, 
its  formulas,  and  its  signs.  It  is  this  which  consti- 
tuteg  in  respect  to  the  conjectural  part  the  calcula- 
tion of  probability.  It  is  necessary  to  distinguish  it 
carefully  from  the  science  of  probability;  for  the 
one  is  of  use  in  all  cases  in  which  the  object  is 
a  likelihood  of  any  kind  whatsoever ;  it  is  properly 
the  conjectural  part  of  all  other  sciences,  whereas 
the  other  calculation  has  place  only  in  those  cases 
in  which  we  can  employ  the  language  of  calcula- 
tion ;  it  is  biit  an  instrument,  of  which  unhappily 
the  science  of  probability  cannot  always  avail  it- 
self. 

The  science  of  probability  consists  in  the  talent 
and  sagacity  necessary  to  know  the  data,  to  chuse. 
them,  to  perceive  their  degrees  of  importance,  to 
arrange  them  in  convenient  order,  a  talent  to  which 
it  is  very  difficult  to  prescribe  precise  rules,  because 
it  is  often  the  product  of  a  multitude  of  unperceived 
judgments.  On  the  contrary,  the  calculation  of  pro- 
bability, properly  so  called,  consists  only  in  follow- 
ing correctly  the  general  rules  of  the  language  of 


30 

calculation  in  those  cases  in  which  it  can  be  em- 
ployed. 

This  calculation  is  often  extremely  useful  and 
extremely  learned  ;  but  k  is  necessary  carefully  to 
distinguish  the  occasions  on  which  we  can  avail  our- 
selves of  it,  for  however  little  the  ideas  which  we 
attempt  to  calculate  are  mingled  with  those  which  I 
have  named  refractory,  and  which  are  truly  incalcu- 
lable, we  are  inevitably  led  into  the  most  excessive- 
mis  reckonings.  It  is  what  I  think  has  happened 
but  too  frequently  to  skilful  men,  who  by  their 
knowledge,  and  even  by  their  mistakes,  have  put  us 
into  the  way  of  discovering  their  cause. 

I  will  limit  myself  to  this  small  number  of  results. 
I  perceive  that  it  is  to  diffuse  but  little  direct  light 
on  a  subject,  which  is  so  much  the  more  important 
and  the  more  extensive,  as  unfortunately  certitude 
is  for  the  most  part  far  from  us.  But  if  I  have  con- 
tributed to  the  formation  of  a  just  and  clear  idea  of 
it  I  shall  not  have  been  useless.  I  have  much  more 
reason  than  Condorcet  for  saying  "  I  have  not 
"  thought  that  I  was  giving  a  good  ivork,  but  mere- 
(i  ly  a  work  calculated  to  give  birth  to  better  ones. 


*  See  page  183  of  the  preliminary  discourse  to  the  essay  on  the  appli- 
cation of  analysis  to  the  probability  of  decisions,  given  by  a  plurality  of 
votes,  in  4to  1785,  al'imprimerie  royal. 

This  discourse,  the  elements  of  the  same  author  which  I  have  alrea- 
dy cited,  and  the  excellent  lesson  of  M.  Delaplace,  which  are  to  be 
found  in  the  collection  of  the  Normal  schools,  are,  in  my  opinion,  the 
three  works  in  which  we  are  best  able  to  see  the  general  spirit  and 
process  of  the  calculation  of  probabilities,  and  where  we  can  the  most 
easily  discover  the  causes  of  its  advantages  and  inconveniences,  al» 
though  they  are  not  yet  there  completely  developed, 


I 


31 

Not  wishing  to  occupy  myself  longer  with  the 
conjectural  part  of  our  knowledge,  and  not  believ- 
ing it  necessary  to  add  to  the  small  number  of  prin- 
ciples which  I  have  established  before  this  long  di- 
gression, and  which  embrace  in  my  opinion  every 
thing  of  importance  in  the  logical  art,  such  as  it  pro- 
ceeds from  true  logical  science  5  it  only  remains  for 
me  to  endeavour  to  make  a  happy  application  of  this 
art  to  the  study  of  our  will  and  its  effects.  It  is 
this  I  am  going  to  undertake,  with  a  hope  that  my 
instruments  being  better,  I  may  better  succeed  than 
perhaps  men  more  skilful  but  not  so  well  a 


' 


SECOND    SECTION 


Elements  of  Ideology,  or  a  treatise  on  the  will  and 
its  effects. 

INTRODUCTION. 

SECTION    FIRST. 

The  faculty  of  willing  is  a  mode  and  a  consequence  of  the  faculty  o*f 
feeling. 

WHAT  has  been  now  read  is  the  end  of  all  that 
I  had  to  say  of  human  intelligence,  considered  un- 
der the  relation  of  its  means  of  knowing  and  under- 
standing. This  analysis  of  our  understanding,  and 
of  that  of  every  other  animated  being,  such  as  we 
conceive  and  imagine  it,  is  not  perhaps  either  as 
perfect  or  as  complete  as  might  be  desired;  but 
I  believe  at  least  that  it  discovers  clearly  to  us  the 
origin  and  the  source  of  all  our  knowledge,  and  the 
true  intellectual  operations  which  enter  into  its  com- 
position, and  that  it  shows  us  plainly  the  nature 
and  species  of  certitude  of  which  this  knowledge  is 
susceptible,  and  the  disturbing  causes  which  rendej- 
it  uncertain  or  erroneous. 

Strengthened  with  these  data  we  can  therefore 
endeavour  to  avail  ourselves  of  them,  and  employ 
5 


34 

«ur  means  of  knowledge  either  in  the  study  of  the 
will  and  its  effects  to  complete  the  history  of  our  in- 
tellectual faculties,  or  in  the  study  of  those  beings 
which  are  not  ourselves  ;  in  order  to  acquire  a  just 
idea  of  what  we  are  able  to  know  of  this  singular 
universe  delivered  to  our  eager  curiosity. 

I  think  for  the  reasons  before  adduced,  that  it  is 
the  first  of  these  two  researches  which  ought  to  oc- 
cupy us  in  the  first  place.  Consequently  I  shall  go 
back  to  the  point  at  which  I  endeavoured  to  trace 
the  plan  ;  and  I  shall  permit  myself  to  repeat  here 
what  I  then  said  in  my  logic,  chap.  9th,  page  432. 
Obliged  to  be  consequent,  I  must  be  pardoned  for 
recalling  the  point  from  whence  I  set  out. 

"  This  second  manner  I  have  said  of  considering 
"  our  individuals,  presents  us  a  system  of  phenome- 
(i  na  so  different  from  the  first,  that  we  can  scarcely 
"  believe  it  appertains  to  the  same  beings,  seen 
"  merely  under  a  different  aspect.  Doubtless  we 
"  could  conceive  man  as  only  receiving  impressions, 
"  recollecting,  comparing  and  combining  them  al- 
"  ways  with  a  perfect  indifference.  He  would  then 
"be  only  a  being,  knowing  and  understanding 
"  without  passion,  properly  so  called  (relatively  to 
"  himself)  and  without  action  relatively  to  other  be- 
"  ings,  for  he  would  have  no  motive  to  will,  and 
"  no  reason  and  no  means  to  act ;  and  certainly 
"  on  this  supposition  whatever  were  his  faculties 
"  for  judging  and  knowing  they  would  rest  in 
"  great  stagnation,  for  want  of  a  stimulant  and 
"  agent  to  exercise  them.  But  this  is  not  man ;  he 
"  is  a  being  willing  in  consequence  of  his  impres- 
"  eions  and  of  his  knowledge,  and  acting  in  conse- 


"  quence  of  his  will.*  It  is  that  which  constitutes 
"  him  on  the  one  part  susceptible  of  sufferings  and 
"  enjoyments,  of  happiness  and  misery,  ideas  correla- 
"  tive  and  inseparable,  and  on  the  other  part  capable 
"  of  influence  and  of  power.  It  is  that  which  causes 
*f  him  to  have  wants  and  means,  and  consequently 
"  rights  and  duties,  either  merely  when  he  has  re- 
"  lation  with  inanimate  beings  only,  or  more  still 
"  when  he  is  in  contact  with  other  beings,  suscepti- 
"  ble  also  of  enjoying  and  suffering ;  for  the  rights 
fi  of  a  sensible  being  are  all  in  its  wants,  and  its 
f{  duties  in  its  means ;  and  it  is  to  be  remarked  that 
f'  weakness  in  all  its  forms  is  always  and  essenti- 
"  ally  the  principle  of  rights  ;  and  that  power,  in 
"  whatsoever  sense  we  take  this  word,  is  not  and 
^  can  never  be  but  the  source  of  duties,  that  is  to 
66  say  of  rules  for  the  manner  of  employing  this  pow- 
"  er."  Where  there  is  nothing,  the  old  proverb  just- 
ly says  the  king  loses  his  right :  but  a  king  as  ano- 
ther person  cannot  lose  his  rights,  but  in  as  much  as 
another  individual  loses  his  duties  in  regard  to  him ; 
which  is  saying  in  an  inverse  sense,  that  he  who 
can  do  nothing,  has  no  more  duties  to  fulfil,  has  no 
longer  any  rule  to  follow  for  the  employment  of  his 
power,  since  it  has  become  null.  That  is  very  true. 
Wants  and  means,  rights  and  duties,  arise  then 
from  the  faculty  of  will ;  if  man  willed  nothing  he 
would  have  nothing  of  all  these.  But  to  have  wants 
and  means,  rights  and  duties,  is  to  have,  is  to  pos- 
sess, something.  These  are  so  many  species  of 
property,  taking  this  word  in  its  most  extensive 

*  We  may  say  as  much  of  all  animated  beings  which  we  know,  and 
even  of  all  those  we  imagine. 


36 

signification  •  They  are  things  which  appertain  to 
us.  Oar  means  are  even  a  real  property,  and  the 
first  of  all,  in  the  most  restrained  sense  of  the  term. 
Thus  the  ideas,  wants  and  means,  rights  and  du- 
ties, imply  the  idea  of  property  ;  and  the  ideas  of 
riches  and  deprivation,  justice  and  injustice,  which 
are  derived  from  them,  could  not  exist  without  that 
of  property.  We  must  begin  then  by  explaining  this 
latter ;  and  this  can  only  be  done  by  remounting  to 
its  origin.  Now  this  idea  of  property  can  only  be 
founded  on  the  idea  of  personality.  For  if  an 
individual  had  not  a  consciousness  of  his  own  ex- 
istence, distinct  and  separate  from  every  other, 
he  could  possess  nothing,  he  could  have  nothing 
peculiar  to  himself.  We  must  first  therefore  exa- 
amine  and  determine  the  idea  of  personality  ;  but 
before  proceeding  on  this  examination,  there  is  yet 
a  necessary  preliminary;  it  is  to  explain  with  clear- 
ness and  precision  what  the  willing  faculty  is,  from 
which  we  maintain  that  all  these  ideas  arise,  and 
on  account  of  which  we  wish  to  give  its  history. 
We  have  no  other  means  of  seeing  clearly  how  this 
faculty  produces  these  ideas,  and  how  all  the  con- 
sequences which  result  from  it  may  be  regarded  as 
its  effects  It  is  thus  that  always  by  remounting,  or 
rather  by  descending  step  by  step,  we  are  inev- 
itably led  to  the  study  and  observation  of  our  intel- 
lectual faculties,  whenever  we  wish  to  penetrate 
to  the  bottom  of  whatever  subject  engages  us.  This 
truth  is  perhaps  more  precious  in  itself  than  all 
those  we  shall  be  able  to  collect  in  the  course  of 
our  work.  I  will  commence  then  by  an  exposi- 
tion of  that  in  which  the  willing  faculty  consists. 


3? 

This  faculty,  or  the  will,  is  one  of  the  four  pri- 
mordial faculties,  which  we  have  recognized  in  the 
human  understanding,  and  even  in  that  of  all  ani- 
mated beings,  and  into  which  we  have  seen  that  the 
faculty  of  thinking  or  of  feeling  necessarily  resolves 
itself  when  we  decompose  it  into  its  true  elements, 
and  when  we  admit  into  it  nothing  factitious. 

We  have  considered  the  faculty  of  willing  as  the 
fourth  and  last  of  these  four  primitive  and  necessa- 
ry subdivisions  of  sensibility ;  because  in  every  de- 
sire, in  every  act  of  willing  or  volition,  in  a  word, 
in  every  propensity  whatsoever,  we  can  always  con- 
ceive the  act  of  experiencing  an  impression,  that  of 
judging  it  good  either  to  seek  or  avoid,  and  even 
that  of  recollecting  it  to  a  certain  point,  since  by 
the  very  nature  of  the  act  of  judging  we  have  seen 
that  the  idea,  which  is  the  subject  of  every  judg- 
ment, can  always  be  considered  as  a  representation 
of  the  first  impression  which  this  idea  has  made. 
Thus  more  or  less  confusedly,  more  or  less  rapidly, 
an  animated  being  has  always  felt,  recollected  and 
judged,  previously  to  willing. 

It  must  not  be  concluded  from  this  analysis  that 
I  consider  the  willing  faculty  as  only  that  of  hav- 
ing definitive  and  studied  sentiments  which  are  spe- 
cially called  desires,  and  which  may  be  called  ex 
press  and  formal  acts  of  the  will.  On  the  contrary 
I  believe  that  to  have  a  just  idea  of  it,  we  must  form 
one  much  more  extensive;  and  nothing  previously 
established  prevents  us  from  it :  for  since  we  have 
said  that  even  in  a  desire  the  most  mechanical, 
and  the  most  sudden,  and  in  a  determination  the 
most  instinctive;  the  most  purely  organic,  we  ought 


88 

always  to  conceive  the  acts  of  feeling,  recollecting 
and  judging,  as  therein  implicitly  and  impercepti- 
bly included,  and  as  having  necessarily  preceded  it, 
were  it  only  for  an  inappreciable  instant,  we  tan 
without  contradicting  ourselves  regard  all  these  pro- 
pensities, even  the  most  sudden  and  unstudied,  as 
appertaining  to  the  faculty  of  willing ;  though  we 
have  made  it  the  fourth  and  the  last  of  the  elemen- 
tary faculties  of  our  intelligence.  I  even  think  it  is 
necessary  to  do  so,  and  that  the  will  is  really  and 
properly  the  general  and  universal  faculty  of  finding 
one  thing  preferable  to  another,  that  of  being  so  af- 
fected as  to  love  better  such  an  impression,  such  a 
sentiment,  such  an  action,  such  a  possession,  such 
an  object,  than  such  another.  To  love  and  to  hate 
are  wrords  solely  relative  to  this  faculty,  which 
would  have  no  signification  if  it  did  not  exist ;  and 
its  action  takes  place  on  every  occasion  on  which 
our  sensibility  experiences  any  attraction  or  repul- 
sion whatsoever.  At  least  it  is  thus  I  conceive  the 
will  in  all  its  generality  ;  and  it  is  by  proceeding 
from  this  nianenr  of  conceiving  it  that  I  will  attempt 
to  explain  its  effects  and  consequences. 

Without  doubt  the  will,  thus  conceived,  is  a  part 
of  sensibility.  The  faculty  of  being  affected  in  a 
particular  manner  cannot  but  be  a  part  of  the  facuU 
ty  of  being  affected  in  general.  But  it  is  a  distinct 
mode  of  it,  and  one  which  may  be  separated  from 
it  in  thought.  We  cannot  will  without  a  cause, 
(this  is  a  thing  very  necessary  to  be  remarked,  and 
never  to  be  forgotten,)  thus  we  cannot  will  without 
having  felt,  but  we  may  always  feel  in  such  a  man- 
ner as  never  to  will.  We  have  already  said  that 


39 

we  can  imagine  man,  or  any  other  animated  and 
sensible  being,  as  feeling  in  such  a  manner  that  eve- 
ry thing  would  be  equal  to  him ;  that  all  his  affec- 
tions, although  distinct,  would  be  indifferent  to  him ; 
and  that  consequently  he  could  neither  desire  nor 
fear  any  thing ;  that  is  to  say  he  could  not  will,  for 
to  desire  and  to  fear  is  to  will :  and  to  will  is  never 
but  to  desire  something  and  to  fear  the  contrary,  or 
reciprocally.  On  this  supposition  an  animated  and 
sensible  being  would  yet  be  a  feeling  being.  He 
could  even  be  discerning  and  knowing,  that  is  to  say 
judging.  It  will  be  sufficient  for  this  that  he  should 
feel  the  difference  of  his  various  perceptions,  and 
the  different  circumstances  of  each,  although  incapa- 
ble of  a  predilection  for  any  of  them,  or  for  any  of 
the  combinations  of  them  which  he  can  make  ;  on- 
ly, and  we  have  before  made  the  remark,  the  know, 
ledge  of  the  animated  being  thus  constituted  would 
necessarily  be  very  limited.  Because  his  faculty  of 
knowing  would  have  no  motive  of  action  ;  and  his 
faculty  of  acting,  if  even  it  existed,  could  not  exer- 
cise itself  with  intention,  since  to  have  an  intention 
he  must  have  a  desire,  and  every  desire  supposes  a 
preference  of  some  sort. 

I  will  observe,  by  the  way,  that  this  supposition 
of  a  perfect  indifference  in  sensibility  shows  very 
clearly,  in  my  opinion,  that  it  is  erroneously  that 
certain  persons  have  wished  to  make  of  what  they 
call  our  sentiments  and  affections,  modifications  of 
our  being  essentially  different  from  those  which  they 
name  perceptions  or  ideas,  and  refuse  to  compre- 
hend them  under  those  general  denominations  of 
perceptions  or  ideas :  for  the  quality  of  being  effec- 


40 

tive,  \vhicli  certain  of  our  perceptions  have,  is  but  it 
particular  circumstance,  an  accidental  quality,  with 
which  all  our  modifications  might  be  endowed  5  and 
of  which,  as  we  have  just  seen,  all  might  likewise 
be  deprived.  But  they  would  not  be  the  less,  as 
they  are  in  effect  perceptions,  that  is  to  say  things 
perceived  or  felt.  The  proof  is  that  some  of  these 
modifications,  after  having  possessed  the  quality  of 
being  effective,  lose  it  by  the  effect  of  habit,  and 
others  which  acquire  it  through  reflection,  all  with- 
out ceasing  to  be  perceived,  and  consequently  with- 
out ceasing  to  be  perceptions.  I  think  therefore 
that  the  word  perception  is  truly  the  generic  term. 
As  to  the  distinction  established  between  the 
words  perception  and  idea,  I  do  not  think  it  more  le- 
gitimate if  founded  on  the  pretended  property  of  an 
idea  being  an  image.  For  the  idea  of  upeartree  is  no 
more  the  image  of  a  tree,  than  the  perception  of  the 
relation  of  three  to  four  is  the  image  of  the  differ- 
ence of  these  two  figures,  and  no  one  of  the  modifi- 
cations of  our  sensibility  is  the  image  of  any  thing 
which  takes  place  around  us.  I  think  then,  that  we 
may  regard  the  words  perception  and  idea  as  syno- 
nimous  in  their  most  extensive  signification,  and  for 
the  same  reasons  the  words  think  sm<\feel  as  equi- 
valent also  when  taken  in  all  their  generality :  For 
all  our  thoughts  are  things  felt ;  and  if  they  were 
not  felt  they  would  be  nothing ;  and  sensibility  is 
the  general  phenomenon  which  constitutes  and  com- 
prehends  the  whole  existence  of  an  animated  being, 
at  least  for  himself;  and  inasmuch  as  he  is  an  ani- 
mated being,  it  is  the  only  condition  which  can  Fen- 
der him  a  thinking  being. 


However  this  may  be,  none  of  the  animated  be- 
ings which  we  know,  nor  ev^n  cf  those  \ve  can 
imagine,  are  indifferent  to  all  their  perceptions.  It 
is  always  comprised  in  their  sensibility,  in  their 
faculty  of  being  affected,  of  their  being  so  affected 
as  that  certain  perceptions  appear  to  them  what  we 
call  agreeable,  and  certain  others  disagreeable. 
Now  it  is  this  which  constitutes  the  faculty  of  wil- 
ling. Now  that  we  have  formed  to  ourselves  a  per- 
fectly clear  idea  of  it  we  shall  easily  be  able  to  see 
how  this  faculty  produces  the  ideas  of  personality 
and  property. 


SECTION    SECOND. 

t'rom  the  faculty  of  willing  arise  the  ideas  of  personality  and  property, 

Every  man  who  pronounces  the  word  1  (my- 
self) without  being  a  metaphysician  understands  ve- 
ry well  what  he  means  to  say,  and  yet  being  a  me- 
taphysician he  often  succeeds  very  badly  in  giving 
an  account  of  it,  or  in  explaining  it.  We  will  en- 
deavour to  accomplish  this  by  the  aid  of  some  very 
simple  reflections. 

It  is  not  our  body  such  as  it  is  to  others,  and 
such  as  it  appears  to  them  which  we  call  our  self. 
The  proof  is  that  we  know  very  well  to  say  how 
our  body  will  be  when  we  shall  exist  no  more, 
that  is  to  say  when  our  self  shall  be  no  more. 
There  are  then  two  very  distinct  beings. 

It  is  not  moreover  any  of  the  particular  faculties 
we  possess,  which  is  for  us  the  same  thing  as  our 
6 


self.  For  we  say  I  have  the  faculty  of  walking, 
of  eating,  sleeping,  of  breathing,  &c.  Thus  I  or 
my  self,  who  possess,  am  a  thing  distinct  from  the 
thing  possessed. 

Is  it  the  same  with  the  general  faculty  of  feeling  ? 
At  the  first  glance  it  appears  that  the  answer  must 
be  yes,  since  I  say  in  the  same  manner  I  have  the 
faculty  of  feeling.  Notwithstanding,  here  we  find 
a  great  difference  if  we  penetrate  further.  For  if  I 
ask  myself  how  I  know  that  I  have  the  faculty  of 
walking?  I  answer  I  know  it  because  I  feel  it, 
or  because  I  experience  it,  because  I  see  it,  which 
is  still  to  feel  it.  But  if  I  ask  myself  how  I  know 
that  I  feel,  I  am  obliged  to  answer  I  know  it  because 
I  feel  it.  The  faculty  of  feeling  is  then  that  which 
manifests  to  us  all  the  others,  without  which  none 
of  them  would  exist  for  us,  whilst  it  manifests  itself 
that  it  is  its  own  principle  to  itself ;  that  it  is  that 
beyond  which  we  are  not  able  to  remount,  and 
which  constitutes  our  existence ;  that  it  is  every  thing 
for  us;  that  it  is  the  same  thing  as  ourselves.  I  feel 
because  I  feel :  I  feel  because  I  exist ;  -and  1  do 
not  exist  but  because  I  feel.  Then  my  existence 
and  my  sensibility  are  one  and  the  same  thing.  Or 
in  other  words  the  existence  of  myself  and  the  sen- 
sibility of  myself  are  two  identical  beings. 

If  we  pay  attention  that  in  discourse  I  or  myself 
signifies  always  the  moral  being  or  person  who 
speaks,  we  shall  find  that  (to  express  ourselves 
with  exactness)  instead  of  saying  I  have  the  facul- 
ty of  walking  I  ought  to  say  the  faculty  of  feeling, 
which  constitutes  the  moral  person  who  speaks  to 
you  kas  the  property  of  reacting  on  his  legs  in  such 


a  manner  that  his  body  walks.  And  instead  of 
saying  I  have  the  faculty  of  feeling,  I  ought  to  say 
the  faculty  of  feeling  which  constitutes  the  moral 
person  who  speaks  to  you  exists  in  the  body  by 
which  he  speaks  to  you.  These  modes  of  expres- 
sion are  odd  and  unusual  I  agree,  but  in  my  opinion 
they  paint  the  fact  with  much  truth ;  for  in  all  our 
conversations,  as  in  all  our  relations,  it  is  always  one 
faculty  of  feeling  which  addresses  itself  to  another. 

The  self  of  each  of  us  is  therefore  for  him  his 
proper  sensibility,  whatsoever  be  the  nature  of  this 
sensibility ;  or  what  he  calls  his  mind,  if  he  has  a 
decided  opinion  of  the  nature  of  the  principle  of  this 
same  sensibility.  It  is  so  true  that  it  is  this  that 
we  all  understand  by  our  self,  that  we  all  regard 
apparent  death  as  the  end  of  our  being,  or  as  a  pas- 
sage to  another  existence,  according  as  we  think  that 
it  extinguishes  or  does  not  extinguish  all  sentiment. 
Jt  is  tlien  the  sole  fact  of  sensibility  which  gives  us 
the  idea  of  personality,  that  is  to  say  which  makes 
us  perceive  that  we  are  a  being,  and  which  consti- 
tutes for  us  ourself,  our  being. 

There  is,  however,  and  we  have  already  remark- 
ed it,*  another  of  our  faculties  with  which  we  often 
identify  our  self,  that  is  our  will.  We  say  indif- 
ferently it  depends  on  me,  or  it  depends  on  my 
will  to  do  such  or  such  a  thing;  but  this  observa- 
tion very  far  from  contradicting  the  preceding  ana- 
lysis confirms  it,  for  the  faculty  of  willing  is  but  a 
mode  of  the  faculty  of  feeling  ;  it  is  our  faculty  of 
feeling  so  modified  as  to  render  it  capable  to  enjoy 

*  See  vol.  1st.  chap.  13th,  page  295,  second  edition. 


44 

and  to  suffer,  and  to  react  on  our  organs.  Thus  to 
take  the  will  as  the  equivalent  of  self,  is  to  take  a 
part  for  the  whole  ;  it  is  to  regard  as  the  equivalent 
of  this  self  the  portion  of  sensibility  which  consti- 
tutes all  its  energy,  that  from  which  we  can  scarce- 
ly conceive  it  separated,  and  without  which  it  would 
be  almost  null,  if  it  would  not  even  be  entirely  an- 
nihilated. There  is  then  nothing  there  contrary  to 
what  we  have  just  established.  It  remains  then 
well  understood  and  admitted  that  the  self  or  the 
moral  person  of  every  animated  being,  conceived  as 
distinct  from  the  organs  it  causes  to  move,  is  either 
simply  the  abstract  existence  which  we  call  the  sen- 
sibility of  this  individual,  which  results  from  his  or- 
ganization or  a  monade  without  extension ;  which 
is  supposed  eminently  to  possess  this  sensibility, 
and  which  is  also  clearly  an  abstract  being  (if  in- 
deed we  comprehend  this  supposition,)  or  a  little 
body,  subtile,  etherial,  imperceptible,  impalpable, 
endowed  with  this  sensibility  and  which  is  still  ve- 
ry nearly  an  abstraction.  These  three  suppositions 
are  indifferent  for  all  which  is  to  follow.  In  all 
three  sensibility  is  found ;  and  in  all  three  also  it 
alone  constitutes  the  self,  or  the  moral  person  of 
the  individual,  whether  it  be  but  a  phenomenon  re- 
sulting from  his  organization,  or  a  property  of  a 
spiritual  or  corporeal  mind  resident  within  him. 

There  remains  then  but  one  question,  which  is  to 
know  if  this  idea  of  personality,  this  consciousness 
of  self,  would  arise  in  us  from  our  sensibility  in 
the  case  in  which  it  would  not  be  followed  by  icill, 
in  the  case  in  which  it  would  be  deprived  of  this 
mode  which  causes  it  to  enjoy  and  suffer,  and  to  re- 


act  on  our  organs,  which  in  a  word  renders  it  ca- 
pable of  action  and  of  passion.  This  question  can- 
not be  resolved  by  facts,  for  we  know  no  sensibility 
of  this  kind,  and  if  any  such  existed  it  could  not 
manifest  itself  to  our  means  of  knowledge.  For 
the  same  reason  the  question  is  more  curious  than 
useful ;  but  whatever  is  curious  has  an  indirect  uti- 
lity, above  all  in  these  matters  which  can  never  be? 
viewed  on  too  many  different  sides  :  we  must  not 
then  neglect  it. 

On  the  point  in  question  we  certainly  cannot 
pronounce  with  assurance  that  a  being  which  should 
feel  without  affection,  properly  so  called,  and  with- 
out reaction  on  its  organs,  would  riot  have  the  idea 
of  personality,  and  that  of  the  existence  of  its  self. 
It  even  appears  to  me  probable  that  it  would  have 
the  idea  of  the  existence  of  this  splf :  for  in  fact  to 
feel  any  thing  whatever,  is  to  feel  its  self  feeling, 
it  is  to  know  its  self  feeling  :  it  is  to  have  the  pos- 
sibility of  distinguishing  self  from  that  which  self 
feels ;  from  the  modifications  of  self.  But  at  the 
same  time  it  is  beyond  doubt  that  the  being  which 
should  thus  know  its  own  self  would  not  know  it 
by  opposition  with  other  beings,  from  which  it 
would  be  able  to  distinguish  and  separate  it ;  since 
it  would  know  only  itself  and  its  modes.  It  would 
be  for  itself  the  true  infinite  or  indefinite,  as  I  have 
elsewhere  remarked,*  without  term  or  limit  of  any 
kind,  not  knowing  any  thing  else.  It  would  not 
then  properly  know  itself  in  the  sense  we  attach  to 
the  word  to  know,  which  always  imports  the  idea 
of  circumscription  and  of  speciality  $•  and  conse- 

*  See  vol.  3d,  chap.  5,  p.  27. 


quentiy  it  would  not  have  the  idea  of  individuality 
and  of  personality,  in  opposition  and  distinction 
from  other  beings  as  we  have  it.  We  may  already 
assure  ourselves  that  this  idea,  sucli  as  it  is  in  us 
and  for  us,  is  a  creation  and  an  effect  of  our  faculty 
of  willing ;  and  this  explains  very  clearly  why,  al- 
though the  sole  faculty  of  feeling  simply  constitutes 
and  establishes  our  existence,  yet  we  confound  and 
identify  by  preference  our  self  with  our  will.  Here 
I  think  is  a  first  point  elucidated. 

A  thing  still  more  certain,  perhaps,  and  which  will 
advance  us  a  step  further,  is  that  if  it  is  possible  that 
the  idea  of  individuality  and  personality  should  ex- 
ist in  the  manner  we  have  said,  in  a  being  conceiv- 
ed to  be  endowed  with  sensibility  without  will,  at 
least  it  is  impossible  it  should  produce  there  the 
idea  of  property  such  as  we  have  it.  For  our  idea 
of  property  is  privative  and  exclusive :  it  imports 
the  idea  that  the  thing  possessed  appertains  to  a 
sensible  being,  and  appertains  to  none  but  him, 
to  the  exclusion  of  all  others.  Now  it  can- 
not be  that  it  exists  thus  in  the  head  of  a  being 
which  knows  nothing  but  itself,  which  does  not 
know  that  any  other  beings  besides  itself  exists.  If 
then  we  should  suppose  that  this  being  knows  its 
self  with  sufficient  accuracy  to  distinguish  it  from 
its  modes,  and  to  regard  its  different  modifications 
as  attributes  of  this  self,  as  things  which  this 
self  possesses,  this  being  would  still  not  have  com- 
pletely our  idea  of  property.  For  this  it  is  neces- 
sary to  have  the  idea  of  personality  very  complete- 
ly, and  such  as  we  have  just  seen  that  we  form  it 
when  we  are  susceptible  of  passion  and  of  action. 


It  is  then  proved  that  this  idea  of  property  is  an  ef- 
fect, a  production  of  our  willing  faculty. 

But  what  is  very  necessary  to  be  remarked,  be- 
cause it  has  many  consequences,  is,  that  if  it  be  cer- 
tain that  the  idea  of  property  can  arise  only  in  a  be- 
ing endowed  with  will,  it  is  equally  certain  that  in 
such  a  being  it  arises  necessarily  and  inevitably  in 
all  its  plenitude  ;  for  as  soon  as  this  individual 
knows  accurately  itself,  or  its  moral  person,  and  its 
capacity  to  enjoy  and  to  suffer,  and  to  act  necessa- 
rily, it  sees  clearly  also  that  this  self  is  the  exclu- 
sive proprietor  of  the  body  which  it  animates,  of  the 
organs  which  it  moves,  of  all  their  passions  and  their 
actions  ;  for  all  this  finishes  and  commences  with 
this  sel/y  exists  but  by  it,  is  not  moved  but  by  its 
acts,  and  no  other  moral  person  can  employ  the 
same  instruments  nor  be  affected  in  the  same  man- 
ner by  their  effects.  .  The  idea  of  property  and  of 
exclusive  property  arises  then  necessarily  in  a  sen- 
sible being  from  this  alone,  that  it  is  susceptible  of 
passion  and  action  ;  and  it  rises  in  such  a  being  be- 
cause nature  has  endowed  it  with  an  inevitable  and 
inalienable  property,  that  of  its  individuality. 

It  was  necessaiy  there  should  be  a  natural  and 
necessary  property,  as  there  exists  an  artificial  and 
conventional  one  ;  for  there  can  never  be  any  thing 
in  art  which  has  not  its  radical  principle  in  nature; — 
we  have  already  made  the  observation  elsewhere.* 
If  our  gestures  and  our  cries  had  not  the  natural  and 
inevitable  effect  of  denoting  the  ideas  which  affect 
us,  they  never  would  have  become  their  artificial 

*  See  on  this  subject,  vol.  1st.  diap.  16th,  page  339,  second  edi- 
tion, and  different  psvrts  of  the  2d  and  3d  volumes. 


48 

and  conventional  signs.  If  it  were  not  in  nature 
that  every  solid  body  sustained  above  our  heads 
necessarily  sheltered  us  we  should  never  have  had 
houses  made  expressly  for  shelter.  In  the  same 
manner,  if  there  never  had  been  natural  and  inevi- 
table property  there  never  would  have  been  any 
artificial  or  conventional.  This  is  universally  the 
case,  and  we  cannot  too  frequently  repeat,  man  cre- 
ates nothing,  he  makes  nothing  absolutely  new  or 
extra- natural,  (if  we  may  be  allowed  the  expres- 
sion) he  never  does  any  thing  but  draw  consequen- 
ces and  make  combinations  from  that  which  already 
is.  It  is  also  as  impossible  for  him  to  create  an  idea 
or  a  relation  which  has  not  its  source  in  nature  as 
to  give  himself  a  sense  which  has  no  relation  with 
his  natural  senses.  From  this  it  also  follows  that 
in  every  research  which  concerns  man  it  is  necessary 
to  arrive  at  this  first  type ;  for  as  long  as  we  do  not 
see  the  natural  model  of  an  artificial  institution 
which  we  examine  we  may  be  sure  we  have  not  dis- 
covered its  generation,  and  consequently  we  do  not 
tnow  it  completely. 

This  observation  will  meet  with  many  explica- 
tions. It  appears  to  me  that  we  have  not  always 
paid  sufficient  attention  to  it,  and  that  it  is  for  this 
reason  we  have  often  discoursed  on  the  subject 
which  now  occupies  us  in  a  very  useless  and  vague 
manner.  We  have  brought  property  to  a  solemn 
trial  at  bar  and  exhibited  the  reasons  for  and  against 
it  as  if  it  depended  on  us,  whether  there  should  or 
should  not  be  property  in  this  world.  But  this  is 
entirely  to  mistake  our  nature.  It  seems  were  we 
to  listen  to  certain  philosophers  and  legislators  that 


49 

at  a  precise  instant  people  have  taken  into  their 
heads   spontaneously,   and  without  cause,  to  say 
thine  and  mine,   and  that  they  could  and   even 
should  have  dispensed  with  it.     But  the  thine  and 
the  mine  were  never  invented.   They  were  acknow- 
ledged the  day  on  which  we  could  say  thee  and 
me;  and  the  idea  of  me  and  thee  or  rather  of  me 
and  something  other  than  me,  has  arisen,  if  not  the 
very  day  on  which  a  feeling  being  lias  experienced 
impressions,  at  least  the  one  on  which,  in  conse- 
quence  of  these  impressions,  he  has  experienced 
the  sentiment  of  willing,  the  possibility  of  acting, 
which  is  a  consequence  thereof,  and  a  resistance  to 
this  sentiment  and  to  this  act.     When  afterwards 
among  these   resisting  beings,  consequently  other 
than   himself,  the  feeling  and  walling  being  has 
known  that  there  were  some  feeling  like  himself, 
it  has  been  forced  to  accord  to  them  a  personality 
other  than  his  own,  a  se//other  than  his  own  and  dif- 
ferent from  his  own.     And  it  always  has  been  im- 
possible, as  it  always  will  be,  that  that  which  is  his 
should  not  for  him  be  different  from  that  which  is 
theirs.     It  was  not  requisite  therefore  to  discuss  at 
first  whether  it  is  well  or  ill  that  there  exists  such 
or  such  species  of  property,  the  advantages  and  in- 
conveniences of  which  we  shall  see  by  the  sequel  5 
but  it  was  necessary  first  of  all  to  recognize  that 
there  is  a  property,  fundamental,  anterior  and  supe- 
rior to  every  institution,  from  which  will  always 
arise  all  the  sentiments  and  dis-sentinients  which 
are  derived  from  all  the  others ;  for  there  is  proper- 
ty, if  not  precisely  every  where  that  there  is  an  in- 
dividual sentient,  at  least  every  where  that  there  is 
7 


50 

an  individual  willing  in  consequence  of  his  senti 
merit,  and  acting  in  consequence  of  his  will.  These, 
or  I  am  greatly  mistaken,  are  eternal  truths,  against 
which  will  fail  all  the  declamations  that  have  no- 
thing for  their  hase  but  an  ignorance  of  our  true  ex- 
istence; and  which  are  indebted  to  this  ignorance 
for  the  great  credit  they  have  enjoyed  at  different 
times,  and  in  different  countries. 

As  no  authority  can  impose  on  me  when  it  is  con- 
trary to  evidence,  I  will  say  frankly  that  the  same 
forgetfulness  of  the  true  condition  of  our  being  is 
found  in  this  famous  precept,  so  much  boasted  : 
Love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself.  It  exhorts  us  to  a 
sentiment  which  is  very  good  and  very  useful  to 
propagate,  but  which  is  certainly  also  very  badly 
expressed;  for  to  take  this  expression  in  all  the  ri- 
gour of  the  injunction  it  is  inexecutable ;  it  is  as  if 
they  should  tell  us,  with  your  eyes,  such  as  they  are, 
see  your  own  visage  as  you  see  that  of  others.  This 
cannot  be.  Without  doubt  we  are  able  to  love  ano- 
ther as  much  and  even  more  than  ourselves,  in  the 
sense  that  we  should  rather  die,  bearing  with  us  the 
hope  of  preserving  his  life,  than  to  live  and  to  suffer 
the  grief  of  losing  him.  But  to  love  him  exactly 
as  ourself,  and  otherwise  than  relatively  to  ourself, 
once  more  I  say  is  impossible.  It  would  be  neces- 
sary for  this,  to  live  his  life  as  we  do  our  own.* 
This  has  no  meaning  for  beings  constituted  as  we 
are.  It  is  contrary  to  the  work  of  our  creation,  iu 
what  manner  soever  it  has  been  operated. 

*  It  is  in  consequence  of  a  confused  notion  of  this  truth  that  people 
have  never  imagined  expressions  more  tender,  than  to  call  one  my 
life,  my  heart,  my  soul,-  it  is  as  though  one  should  call  him  myself. 
There  is  always  something  hyperbolical  in  these  expressions. 


m 

1  am  very  far  from  saying  the  same  things  of  this 
other  precept,  which  people  regard  as  almost  synon 
imous  with  the  first.  Love  ye  one  another,  and  the 
law  is  accomplished.  This  is  truly  admirable,  both 
for  its  form  and  substance.  It  is  also  as  conforma- 
ble to  our  nature  as  the  other  is  repugnant  to  it ;  and 
it  enounces  perfectly  a  very  profound  truth.  Effec- 
tively  sentiments  of  benevolence  being  for  us,  un- 
der every  imaginable  relation,  the  source  of  all  our 
good  of  every  kind,  and  the  universal  means  of  di- 
minishing and  remedying  all  our  evils  as  much  as 
possible,  as  long  as  we  maintain  them  amongst  our- 
selves the  great  law  of  our  happiness  is  accomplish- 
ed, in  as  great  a  degree  as  possible. 

I  shall  be  accused  perhaps  of  futility  for  the  dis- 
tinction which  I  establish  between  two  maxims,  to 
which  nearly  the  same  meaning  has  been  commonly 
attributed;  but  it  will  be  wrong.  It  is  so  different 
to  present  to  men  as  a  rule  of  their  conduct  a  general 
principle,  drawn  from  the  recesses  of  their  nature,  ov 
one  repugnant  to  it,  and  it  leads  to  consequences' 
so  distant  among  themselves,  that  one  must  never 
have  reflected  on  it  at  all  not  to  have  perceived  all 
its  importance.  To  myself  it  appears  such,  that  1 
cannot  conceive  that  two  maxims  so  dissimilar 
should  have  emanated  from  the  same  source  ;*  f 

*  I  conclude  from  hence  that  the  expression  of  the  one  or  the  other 
of  these  precepts,  and  perhaps  of  both,  has  been  altered  by  men,  who 
did  not  really  understand  either.  I  shall  often  have  occasion  to  make 
reflections  of  this  kind,  because  they  are  applicable  to  many  of  these 
maxims  which  pass  from  age  to  age. 

fThe  first  is  from  Leviticus,  chap.  xix.  The  other  is  from  the  gos- 
pel of  St.  John,  chap.  xiii.  See  the  remark  in  the  questions  on  the  mi- 
racles, Voltaire  vol.  60,  page  186.  You  will  be  astonished  to  see 
that  Voltaire  considered  these  two  maxims  as  identical. 


for  the  erne  manifests  to  me  the  most  profound  igno- 
rance, and  the  other  the  most  profound  knowledge  of 
human  nature.  One  would  lead  us  to  compose  the 
romance  of  man,  and  the  other  his  history.  The 
one  consecrates  the  existence  of  natural  property, 
resulting  from  individuality,  and  the  other  seems  to 
disregard  it,  [la  meconnaitre.]  Perhaps  it  may  he 
wondered  that  I  should  treat  at  the  same  time  the 
question  of  the  property  of  all  our  riches,  and  that 
of  all  our  sentiments,  and  thus  mingle  economy  and 
morality;  but,  when  we  penetrate  to  their  funda- 
mental basis,  it  does  not  appear  to  me  possible  to 
separate  either  these  two  orders  of  things  or  their 
study.  In  proportion  as  we  advance,  the  objects 
separate  and  subdivide  themselves,  and  it  becomes 
necessary  to  examine  them  separately ;  but  in  thei* 
principles  they  are  intimately  united.  We  should 
not  have  the  property  of  any  of  our  goods  whatso- 
ever if  we  had  not  that  of  our  wants,  which  is  no- 
thing but  that  of  our  sentiments;  and  all  these  pro- 
perties  are  inevitably  derived  from  the  sentiment  of 
personality,  from  the  consciousness  of  our  self. 

It  is  then  quite  as  useless  to  the  purpose  of  moral, 
ity  or  economy,  to  discuss  whether  it  would  not  be 
better  that  nothing  should  appertain  exclusively  to 
each  one  of  us,  as  it  would  be  to  the  purpose  of 
grammar  to  enquire  whether  it  would  not  be  more 
advantageous  that  our  actions  should  not  be  the 
signs  of  the  ideas  and  the  sentiments  which  pro- 
duce them.  In  every  case  it  would  be  to  ask 
whether  it  would  not  be  desirable  that  we  should 
be  quite  different  from  what  we  are;  and  in- 
deed  it  would  be  to  enquire,  whether  it  would  pot 


53 

be  better  that  we  did  not  exist  at  all ;  for  these  con- 
ditions being  changed  our  existence  would  not  be 
conceivable.  It  would  not  be  altered,  it  would  be 
annihilated. 

It  remains  therefore  certain  that  the  thine  and  the 
mine  are  necessarily  established  amongst  men; 
from  this  alone,  that  they  are  individuals  feeling, 
willing,  and  acting  distinctly  the  one  from  the  other, 
that  they  have  each  one  the  inalienable,  incommuta- 
ble, and  inevitable  property,  in  their  individuality 
and  its  faculties  5  and  that  consequently  the  idea  of 
property  is  the  necessary  result,  if  not  of  the  sole 
phenomenon  of  pure  sensibility,  at  least  of  that  of 
sensibility  united  to  the  will.  Thus  we  have  found 
how  the  sentiment  of  personality  or  the  idea  of  self, 
and  that  of  property  which  flows  from  it  necessarily, 
are  derived  from  our  faculty  of  willing.  Now  we 
may  enquire  with  success,  how  this  same  faculty 
produces  all  our  ivants  and  all  our  means. 


SECTION    THIRD. 

From  the  faculty  of  willing  arise  all  our  ivants  and  all  our  means. 

If  we  had  not  the  idea  of  personality,  and  that  of 
property,  that  is  to  say  the  consciousness  of  our  self, 
and  that  of  the  possession  of  its  modifications,  we 
should  certainly  never  have  either  wants  or  means  ; 
for  to  whom  would  appertain  this  suffering  and  this 
power.  We  should  not  exist  for  ourselves  ;  but  as 
soon  as  we  recognize  ourselves  as  possessors  of  our 
existence,  and  of  its  modes,  we  are  necessarily  by 


54. 

this  alone  a  compound  of  weakness  and  of  strength; 
of  wants  and  means,  of  suffering  and  power,  of  pas- 
sion and  action,  and  consequently  of  rights  and  du- 
ties. It  is  this  we  are  now  to  explain. 

I  commence  by  noticing  that,  conformably  to  the 
idea  I  have  before  given  of  the  willing  faculty,  1 
will  give  indifferently  the  name  of  desire  or  of  will 
to  all  the  acts  of  this  faculty,  from  the  propensity 
the  most  instinctive  to  the  determination  the  most 
studied ;  and  I  request  then  that  it  may  be  recollect- 
ed that  it  is  solely  because  we  perform  such  acts 
that  we  have  the  ideas  of  personality  and  of  proper- 
ty. Now  every  desire  is  a  want,  and  all  our  wants 
consist  in  a  desire  of  some  sort;  thus  the  same  in- 
tellectual acts,  emanating  from  our  willing  faculty, 
which  cause  us  to  acquire  the  distinct  and  complete 
idea  of  our  personality,  our  self,  and  of  the  exclu- 
sive property  of  all  its  modes,  are  also  those  which 
render  us  susceptible  of  wants,  and  which  constitute 
all  our  wants.  This  will  appear  very  clearly. 

In  the  first  place  every  desire  is  a  want.  This 
is  not  doubtful,  since  a  sensible  being,  who  desires 
any  thing  whatsoever,  has  from  this  circumstance 
alone  a  want  to  possess  the  thing  desired,  or  rather, 
and  more  generally  we  may  say,  that  he  experien- 
ces the  want  of  the  cessation  of  his  desire ;  for  eve- 
ry desire  is  in  itself  a  suffering  as  long  as  it  con- 
tinues. It  does  not  become  an  enjoyment  but  when 
it  is  satisfied,  that  is  to  say  when  it  ceases. 

It  is  difficult  at  first  to  believe  that  every  desire 
is  a  suffering;  because  there  are  certain  desires,  the 
birth  of  which  in  an  animated  being  is  always,  or 
almost  always,  accompanied  by  a  sentiment  of  well 


55 

being.  The  desire  of  eating  for  example,  that  of 
the  physical  pleasures  of  love,  are  generally  in  an 
individual  the  results  of  a  state  of  health,  of  which 
he  has  a  consciousness  that  is  agreeable  to  him. 
Many  others  are  in  the  same  case ;  but  this  circum- 
stance must  not  deceive  us.  These  are  the  simul- 
taneous manners  of  being  of  which  we  have  spoken 
in  our  logic,*  which  mingle  themselves  with  the 
ideas,  come  at  the  same  time  with  them  and  alter 
them;  but  which  must  not  be  confounded  with  them 
which  consequently  it  is  necessary  well  to  distinguish 
from  desire  in  itself.  For  first,  they  do  not  always 
co-exist  with  it.  We  have  often  the  want  of  eating, 
and  even  a  violent  inclination  to  the  act  of  reproduc- 
tion, in  consequence  of  sickly  dispositions,  and  with- 
out any  sentiment  of  well  being ;  and  it  is  the  same  of 
other  examples  which  might  be  chosen.  Secondly, 
were  this  not  to  happen,  it  would  not  be  less  true 
that  the  sentiment  of  well  being  is  distinct  and  dif- 
ferent from  that  of  desire ;  and  that  that  of  desire  is 
always  in  itself  a  torment,  a  painful  sentiment  as 
long  as  it  continues.  The  proof  is,  that  it  is  always 
the  desire  of  being  delivered  from  that  state,  what- 
soever it  is,  in  which  we  actually  are;  which  conse- 
quently appears  actually  a  state  of  uneasiness,  more 
or  less*  displeasing.  Now  in  this  sense  a  manner 
of  being  is  always  in  effect  what  it  appears  to  be, 
since  it  consists  only  in  what  it  appears  to  be  to  him 
who  experiences  it :  a  desire  then  is  always  a  suf- 
fering either  light  or  profound,  according  to  its  force, 
and  consequently  a  want  of  some  kind.  It  is  not 


*  See  logic,  vol.  3d,  chap.  6th.  page  315,  and  following. 


56 

necessary  for  the  truth  of  this  that  this  desire  should 
be  founded  on  a  real  want,  that  is  to  say  on  a  just 
sentiment  of  our  true  interest ;  for,  whether  well  or 
ill  founded,  while  it  exists  it  is  a  manner  of  being 
felt  and  incommodious,  and  from  which  we  have  con- 
sequently a  want  of  being  delivered.  Thus  every 
desire  is  a  want. 

But  moreover  all  .our  wants,  from  the  most  pure 
ly  mechanical  to  the  most  spiritualized,  are  but  the 
want  of  satisfying  a  desire.  Hunger  is  but  a  desire 
of  eating,  or  at  least  of  relief  from  the  state  of  lan- 
gour  which  we  experience;  as  the  want,  the  thirst 
of  riches,  or  that  of  glory,  is  but  the  desire  of  posses- 
sing these  advantages,  and  of  avoiding  indigence  or 
obscurity. 

It  is  true,  however,  that  if  we  experience  desires 
without  real  wants,  we  have  also  often  real  wants 
without  experiencing  desires ;  in  this  sense  that 
many  things  are  often  very  necessary  to  our  greater 
well  being,  and  even  to  our  preservation,  without 
our  perceiving  it,  and  consequently  without  our  de- 
siring them.  Thus  for  example,  it  is  certain  that  I 
have  the  greatest  interest*  or  if  you  please  want, 
that  certain  combinations,  of  which  I  have  no  sus- 
picion, should  not  take  place  within  me,  and  from 
which  it  will  result  that  I  shall  have  a  fever  this 
evening ;  but  to  speak  exactly  I  have  not  at  present 
the  effective  want  of  counteracting  these  injurious 
combinations,  since  I  am  not  aware  of  their  exis- 
tence ;  whereas  I  shall  really  have  the  actual  want 
of  being  delivered  from  the  fever,  when  I  shall  suffer 
the  anguish  of  it,  and  because  I  shall  suffer  the  an- 
guish of  it ;  for  if  the  fever  were  not  of  a  nature  to 


57 

produce  in  rne,  for  some  reason  or  other,  the  desire 
of  its  cessation,  when  I  should  be  aware  of  its  prox- 
imate or  remote  effects,  I  should  not  have  in  any 
manner  the  want  of  causing  it  to  cease.  We  may 
absolutely  say  the  same  things  of  all  the  combina- 
tions, which  take  place  in  the  physical  or  moral  or- 
der, without  our  being  aware  of,  or  without  our 
foreseeing,  the  consequences.  If  then  it  be  true,  as 
we  have  seen,  that  every  desire  is  a  want,  it  is  not 
less  so  that  every  actual  want  is  a  desire.  Thus 
we  may  lay  it  down  as  a  general  thesis,  that  our 
desires  are  the  source  of  all  our  wants,  none  of 
which  would  exist  without  them.  For  we  cannot 
too  often  repeat  it,  we  should  be  really  impassive  if 
we  had  no  desires ;  and  if  we  were  impassive  we 
should  have  no  wants,  I  must  not  be  reproached 
with  having  taken  time  for  this  explication ;  we  can- 
not proceed  too  slowly  at  first :  and  if  I  overleap  no 
intermediate  proofs,  I  omit  nevertheless,  many  ac- 
cessaries, at  least  all  those  which  are  not  indispen- 
sable. 

A  first  property  then  of  our  desires  is  now  well 
explained ;  and  it  is  the  only  one  they  have,  so  long 
as  our  sensitive  system  acts  and  re-acts  only  on  it- 
self. But  so  soon  as  it  re-acts  on  our  muscular  sys- 
tem, the  sentiment  of  willing  acquires  a  second  pro- 
perty very  different  from  the  first,  and  which  is  not 
less  important.  It  is  that  of  directing  all  our  actions, 
and  by  this  of  being  the  source  of  all  our  means? 

When  I  say  that  our  desires  direct  all  our  actions ; 
it  is  not  that  many  movements  are  not  operated 
within  us,  which  the  sentiment  of  willing  does  not 
8 


58 

in  any  manner  precede,  and  which  consequently  are 
not  the  effect  of  any  desire.  Of  this  number  are 
particularly  all  those  which  are  necessary  to  the 
commencement,  maintenance  and  continuation  of 
our  life.  But  first  it  is  permitted  to  doubt  whether 
at  first,  anl  in  the  origin,  they  have  not  taken 
place  in  virtue  of  certain  determinations  or  ten- 
dencies really  felt  by  the  living  molecules,  which 
would  make  them  still  the  effect  of  a  wrill  more 
or  less  obscure;  unless  it  be  by  the  all  powerful 
effect  of  habit  or  by  the  preponderance  of  certain 
sentiments  more  general  and  predominant,  that  they 
become  insensible  to  the  animated  individual,  that 
is  to  say,  to  all  results  of  the  combinations  which 
they  operate,  and  finally  if  it  is  not  for  this  reason, 
that  they  are  entirely  withdrawn  from  the  empire  of 
perceptible  will,  or  from  its  sentiment  of  desiring 
and  willing.  These  are  things  of  which  it  is  impos- 
sible for  us  to  have  complete  certitude ;  besides  these 
movements,  vulgarly  and  with  reason  named  invol- 
untary, are  certainly  the  cause  and  the  basis  of  our 
living  existence  :  but  they  furnish  us  no  means  of 
modifying,  varying,  succouring,  defending,  amelio- 
rating it,  &c.  They  cannot  therefore  properly  be 
placed  in  the  rank  of  our  means,  unless  we  mean  to 
say  that  our  existence  itself  is  our  first  mean,  which 
is  very  true  but  very  insignificant ;  for  it  is  the  da- 
tum without  which  we  should  have  nothing  to  say, 
and  certainly  should  say  nothing.  Thus  this  first 
observation  does  not  prevent  its  being  true  that  our 
will  directs  all  our  actions,  which  can  be  regarded 
as  the  means  of  supplying  our  wants. 


59 

The  movements  of  which  we  have  just  spoken 
are  not  the  only  ones  in  us  which  are  involuntary. 
They  are  all  continued  or  at  least  very  frequent, 
and  in  general  regular.  But  there  are  others  invol- 
uutary  also,  which  are  more  rare,  less  regular,  and 
which  depend  more  or  less  on  a  convulsive  and 
sickly  state.  The  involuntary  movements  of  this  se- 
cond species  cannot,  any  more  than  the  others,  be  re- 
garded as  making  part  of  our  individual  power. 
Generally  they  have  no  determinate  object.  Often 
even  they  have  grievous  and  pernicious  effects  for 
us,  and  which  take  place  although  foreseen,  and  con- 
trary to  our  desires.  Their  independence  of  our 
will  then  does  not  prevent  our  general  observation 
from  being  just.  Thus,  putting  aside  these  two 
species  of  involuntary  movements,  we  may  say  with 
truth,  that  our  desires  have  the  effect  eminently  re- 
markable of  directing  all  our  actions,  at  least  all 
those  that  really  merit  this  name,  and  which  are  for 
us  the  means  of  procuring  enjoyments  or  knowledge, 
which  knowledge  is  also  an  enjoyment;  since  these 
are  things  desired  and  useful.  And  we  must  com- 
prehend in  the  number  of  these  actions  our  intellec- 
tual operations ;  for  they  also  are  for  us  means,  and 
even  the  most  important  of  all,  since  they  direct  the 
employment  of  all  the  others. 

Now  to  complete  the  proof  that  the  acts  of  our 
will  are  the  source  of  all  our  means,  without  excep- 
tion, it  only  remains  to  show  that  the  actions  sub- 
mitted to  our  will  are  absolutely  the  only  means  we 
have  of  supplying  our  wants,  or  otherwise  satisfy- 
ing our  desires ;  that  is  to  say,  that  our  physical  and 


60 

moral  force,  and  the  use  we  make  of  them,  compose; 
exactly  all  our  riches. 

To  recognize  this  truth  in  all  its  details,  it  would 
be  necessary  that  we  should  have  already  followed 
all  the  consequences  of  the  different  employments 
of  our  faculties,  and  to  have  seen  their  effect  in  the 
formation  of  all  that  we  call  our  riches  of  every  kind. 
Now  it  is  this  we  have  not  yet  been  able  to  do,  and 
which  we  will  do  in  the  sequel:  it  will  even  be  a 
considerable  part  of  our  study.  But  from  this  mo- 
ment we  may  clearly  see  that  nature,  in  placing  man 
in  a  corner  of  this  vast  universe,  in  which  he  appears 
but  as  an  imperceptible  and  ephemeral  insect,  has 
given  him  nothing  as  his  own  but  his  individual 
and  personal  faculties,  as  well  physical  as  intellec- 
tual. This  is  his  sole  endowment,  his  only  original 
wealth,  and  the  only  source  of  all  which  he  procures 
for  himself.  In  effect,  if  even  we  should  admit  that 
all  those  beings,  by  which  we  are  surrounded,  have 
been  created  for  us;  (and  assuredly  it  needs  a  great 
dose  of  vanity  to  imagine  it,  or  even  to  believe  it,) 
if,  I  say,  this  were  so,  it  would  not  be  less  true  that 
we  could  not  appropriate  one  of  those  beings,  nor 
convert  the  smallest  parcel  of  them  to  our  use,  but 
by  our  action  on  them  and  by  the  employment  of  our 
faculties  to  this  effect. 

Not  to  take  examples  but  in  the  physical  line. — 
A  field  is  no  means  of  subsistance  but  as  we  cul- 
tivate it.  Game  is  not  useful  to  us  unless  we  pur- 
sue it.  A  lake,  a  river,  furnish  us  no  nourishment, 
but  because  we  fish  therein.  Wood  or  any  other 
spontaneous  production  of  nature  is  of  no  use  what- 
ever, until  we  have  fashioned  it,  or  at  least  gathered 


61 

it.  To  put  an  extreme  case,  were  we  to  suppose  an 
alimentary  matter  to  have  fallen  into  our  mouths  rea- 
dy prepared,  still  it  would  be  necessary,  in  order  to 
assimilate  it  to  our  substance,  that  we  should  mas- 
ticate, swallow  and  digest  it.  Now  all  these  oper- 
ations are  so  many  employments  of  our  individual 
force.  Certainly  if  ever  man  has  been  doomed  to 
labour,  it  was  from  the  date  of  the  day  in  which  he 
was  created  a  sensible  being,  and  having  members 
and  organs ;  for  it  is  not  even  possible  to  conceive 
that  any  being  whatsoever  could  become  useful  to 
him  without  some  action  on  his  part,  and  we  may 
well  say,  not  only  as  the  good  and  admirable  La 
Fontaine,  that  labour  is  a  treasure;  but  even  that 
labour  is  our  only  treasure,  and  this  treasure  is  very 
great  because  it  surpasses  all  our  wants.  The  proof 
is,  that  like  the  fortune  of  a  rich  man  whose  revenue 
surpasses  his  expenses,  the  funds  of  the  enjoyment 
and  power  of  the  human  species,  taken  in  mass,  are 
always  sufficient  although  often  and  even  always 
very  badly  husbanded. 

We  shall  soon  see  all  this  with  greater  develope- 
ments,  and  we  shall  see  at  the  same  time  that  the  ap- 
plication of  our  force  to  different  beings  is  the  sole 
cause  of  the  value  of  all  those  which  have  a  value 
for  us,  and  consequently  is  the  source  of  all  value ; 
as  the  property  of  this  same  force  which  necessarily 
appertains  to  the  individual  who  is  endowed  with 
it,  and  who  directs  it  by  his  will,  is  the  source  of  all 
property.  But  from  this  time  I  think  we  may  safe- 
ly conclude,  that  in  the  employment  of  our  faculties, 
in  our  voluntary  actions,  consists  all  the  power  we 
have ;  and  that  consequently  the  acts  .of  our  will 


62 

which  direct  these  actions,  are  the  source  of  all  our 
means,  as  we  have  seen  already  that  they  constitute 
all  our  wants.  Thus  this  fourth  faculty,  and  last 
mode  of  our  sensibility,  to  which  we  owe  the  com- 
plete ideas  of  personality  and  property,  is  that  which 
renders  us  proprietors  of  wants  and  means,  of  passion 
and  of  action,  of  suffering  and  of  power.  From  these 
ideas  arise  those  of  riches  and  poverty. 

Before  proceeding  further  let  us  see  in  what  these 
last  consist. 


SECTION    FOURTH. 

From  the  faculty  of  willing  arise  also  the  ideas  of  riches  and  of  poverty. 

If  we  had  not  the  distinct  consciousness  of  our  self, 
and  consequently  the  ideas  of  personality  and  of  pro- 
perty,  we  should  have  no  wants.  All  these  arise 
from  our  desires.  And  if  we  had  not  wants,  we 
should  not  have  the  ideas  of  riches  and  of  poverty ; 
because  to  be  rich  is  to  possess  the  means  of  supply- 
ing our  wants,  and  to  be  poor  is  to  be  deprived  of 
these  means.  An  useful  or  agreeable  thing,  that  is 
to  say  a  thing  of  which  the  possession  is  an  article  of 
riches,  is  never  but  a  means  proximate  or  remote,  of 
satisfying  a  want  or  a  desire  of  some  kind  ;  and  if 
we  had  neither  wants  nor  desires,  which  are  the 
same  things,  we  should  have  neither  the  possession 
nor  the  privation  of  the  means  of  satisfying  them. 

To  take  these  things  in  this  generality,  we  per- 
ceive plainly  that  our  riches  are  not  composed  solely 


63 

of  a  precious  stone,  or  of  a  mass  of  metal,  of  an  es- 
tate in  land,  or  of  an  utensil,  or  even  of  a  store  of 
eatables,  or  a  habitation.  The  knowledge  of  a  law 
of  nature,  the  habit  of  a  technical  process,  the  use 
of  a  language  by  which  to  communicate  with  those 
of  our  kind,  and  to  increase  our  force  by  theirs,  or  at 
least  not  to  be  disturbed  by  theirs  in  the  exercise  of 
our  own,  the  enjoyment  of  conventions  established, 
'  and  of  institutions  created  in  this  spirit,  are  so  far 
the  riches  of  the  individual  and  of  the  species :  for 
these  are  so  many  things  useful  towards  increas- 
ing our  means,  or  at  least  for  the  free  use  of  them, 
that  is  to  say,  according  to  our  will,  and  with  the 
least  possible  obstacle,  whether  on  the  part  of  men 
or  of  nature,  which  is  to  augment  their  power,  their 
energy,  and  their  effect. 

We  call  all  these  goods ;  for  by  contraction  we 
give  the  name  of  goods  to  all  those  things  that  con- 
tribute to  do  us  good,  to  augment  our  well  being,  to 
render  our  manner  of  being  good  or  better;  that  is  to 
say,  to  all  those  things,  the  possession  of  which  is  a 
good  Now  whence  come  all  those  goods?  We 
have  already  summarily  seen,  and  we  shall  see  it 
more  in  detail  in  the  sequel.  It  is  from  the  just, 
that  is  to  say  from  the  legitimate,  employment, 
according  to  the  laws  of  nature,  which  we  make 
of  our  faculties.  We  do  not  often  find  a  diamond, 
but  because  we  search  for  it  with  intelligence ;  we 
have  not  a  mass  of  metal,  but  because  wre  have  stu- 
died the  means  of  procuring  it.  We  do  not  possess 
a  good  field  or  a  good  utensil,  but  because  we  have 
well  recognised  the  properties  of  the  first  material, 
and  rendered  easy  the  manner  of  making  it  useful. 


We  have  no  provision  whatsoever,  or  even  a  shelter, 
but  because  we  have  simplified  the  operations  neces- 
sary for  forming  the  one,  or  for  constructing  the 
other.  It  is  then  always  from  the  employment  of 
our  faculties  that  all  these  goods  arise. 

N  ow  all  these  goods  have  amongst  us,  to  a  certain 
point,  a  value  determinate  and  fixed.  They  even 
have  always  two.  The  one  is  that  of  the  sacrifices 
which  their  acquisition  costs  us  ;  the  other  that  of 
the  advantages  which  their  possession  procures  us. 
When  1  fabricate  an  utensil  for  my  use,  it  has  for 
me  the  double  value  of  the  labour  which  it  costs  me 
in  the  first  place,  and  of  that  which  it  will  save  me 
in  the  sequel.  I  make  a  bad  employment  of  my 
force,  if  its  construction  costs  me  more  labour  than 
its  possesion  will  save  me.  It  is  the  same,  if  instead 
of  making  this  utensil,  I  buy  it,  if  the  things  I  give 
in  return  have  cost  me  more  labor  than  the  utensil 
would  have  cost  me  in  making  it,  or  if  they  would 
have  saved  me  more  labour  than  this  will,  I  make 
a  bad  bargain,  I  lose  more  than  I  gain,  I  relinquish 
more  than  I  acquire.  This  is  evident.  In  the  ac- 
quisition of  any  other  good  than  an  instrument  of 
labour,  the  thing  is  not  so  clear.  However,  since 
it  is  certain  that  our  physical  and  moral  faculties  are 
our  only  original  riches ;  that  the  employment  of 
these  faculties,  labour  of  some  kind,  is  our  only  pri- 
mitive treasure ;  and  that  it  is  always  from  this  em- 
ployment that  all  those  things  which  we  call  goods 
arise,  from  the  most  necessary  to  the  most  purely 
agreeable,  it  is  certain,  in  like  manner,  that  all 
these  goods  are  but  a  representation  of  the  labour 
which  has  produced  them  ;  and  that  if  they  have  a 


65 

value,  or  even  two  distinct  ones,  they  can  only  de- 
rive these  values  from  that  of  the  labour  from  which 
they  emanate.  Labour  itself  then  has  a  value  ;  it 
has  then  even  two  different  ones,  for  no  being  can 
communicate  a  property  which  it  has  not.  Yes  la- 
bour has  these  two  values,  the  one  natural  and  ne- 
cessary, the  other  more  or  less  conventional  and 
eventual.  This  will  be  seen  very  clearly. 

An  animated  being,  that  is  to  say  sensible  and 
willing,  has  wants  unceasingly  reproduced,  to  the 
satisfaction  of  which  is  attached  the  continuation  of 
his  existence.  He  cannot  provide  for  them  but  by 
the  employment  of  his  faculties,  of  his  means  ;  and  if 
this  employment  (his  labour)  should  cease  during  a 
certain  time  to  meet  these  wants,  his  existence 
would  end.  The  mass  of  these  wants,  is  then  the 
natural  and  necessary  measure  of  the  mass  of  la- 
bour which  he  can  perform  W7hilst  they  cause  them- 
selves to  be  felt ;  for  if  he  employs  this  mass  of  la- 
bour for  his  direct  and  immediate  use  it  must  suffice 
for  his  service.  If  he  consecrates  it  to  another,  this 
other  must  at  least  do  for  him,  during  this  time, 
what  he  would  have  done  for  himself.  ^If  he  em- 
ploys it  on  objects  of  an  utility  less  immediate  and 
more  remote,  this  utility,  when  realised,  must  at 
least  replace  the  objects  of  an  urgent  utility,  which 
he  will  have  consumed  whilst  he  ^vas  occupied  with 
those  less  necessary.  Thus  this  sum  of  indispen- 
sable wants,  or  rather  that  of  the  value  of  the  ob- 
jects necessary  to  supply  them,  is  the  natural  and 
necessary  measure  of  the  value  of  the  labour  per- 
formed in  the  same  time.  This  value  is  that  which 
9 


66 

the  labour  inevitably  costs.  Tbis  is  the  first  of  the 
two  values,  the  existence  of  which  we  have  an- 
nounced ;  it  is  purely  natural  and  necessary. 

The  second  value  of  our  labour,  that  of  what  it 
produces,  is  from  its  nature  eventual :  It  is  often 
conventional  and  always  more  variable  than  the 
first.  It  is  eventual,  for  no  man  in  commencing  any 
labour  whatever,  even  when  it  is  for  his  own  ac- 
count, can  entirely  assure  himself  of  its  product ;  a 
thousand  circumstances,  which  do  not  depend  on 
him  and  which  often  he  cannot  foresee,  augment  or 
diminish  this  product.  It  is  often  conventional ; 
for  when  this  same  man  undertakes  a  labour  for  an- 
other, the  quantity  of  its  product,  which  will  result 
to  himself,  depends  on  that  which  the  other  shall 
have  agreed  to  give  him  in  return  for  his  pains, 
whether  the  convention  were  made  before  the  exe- 
cution of  the  labour,  as  with  day  labourers  or  hire- 
lings, or  does  not  take  place  until  after  the  labour 
has  been  perfected,  as  with  merchants  and  manufac- 
turers. Finally  this  second  value  of  labour  is  more 
variable  than  its  natural  and  necessary  value  ;  be- 
cause it  is  determined  not  by  the  wants  of  him  who 
performs  the  labour,  but  by  the  wants  and  means  of 
him  who  profits  from  it,  and  it  is  influenced  by  a 
thousand  concurrent  causes,  which  it  is  not  yet  time 
to  develope. 

But  even  the  natural  value  of  labour  is  not  of  an 
absolute  fixture :  for  first  the  wants  of  a  man  in  a 
given  time,  even  those  which  may  be  regarded  as 
the  most  urgent,  are  susceptible  of  a  certain  lat- 
itude ;  and  the  flexibility  of  our  nature  is  such  that 
tkege  wants  are  restrained  or  extended  considerably 


67 

by  the  empire  of  will  and  the  effect  of  habit.  Se- 
condly, by  the  influence  of  favourable  circumstances, 
of  a  mild  climate,  of  a  fertile  soil,  these  wants  may 
be  largely  satisfied  for  a  given  time  by  the  effect  of 
very  little  labour,  while  in  less  happy  circumstances, 
under  an  inclement  sky,  on  a  sterile  soil,  greater  ef- 
forts will  be  requisite  to  provide  for  them.  Thus,  ac- 
cording to  the  case,  the  labour  of  the  same  man, 
during  the  same  time,  must  procure  him  a  greater  or 
smaller  number  of  objects,  or  of  objects  more  or  less 
difficult  to  be  acquired,  solely  that  he  may  continue 
io  exist. 

By  this  small  number  of  general  reflection  s  we  see 
then,  that  the  ideas  of  riches  and  poverty  arise  from 
our  wants,  that  is  to  say  from  our  desires,  for  riches 
consist  in  the  possession  of  means  of  satisfying  our 
wants,  and  poverty  in  their  non-possession.  We 
call  these  means  goods,  because  they  do  us  good. 
They  are  all  the  product  and  the  representation  of  a 
certain  quantity  of  labour ;  and  they  give  birth  in 
us  to  the  idea  of  value,  which  is  but  a  comparative 
idea  ;  because  they  have  all  two  values,  that  of  the 
goods  which  they  cost  and  that  of  the  goods  which 
they  produce.  Since  these  goods  are  but  the  repre- 
sentation of  the  labour  which  has  produced  them,  it 
is  then  from  labour  they  derive  these  two  values. 
It  has  them  then  itself.  In  effect  labour  has  neces- 
sarily these  two  values.  The  second  is  eventual, 
most  generally  conventional,  and  always  very  varia- 
ble. The  first  is  natural  and  necessary;  it  is  not 
however  of  an  absolute  fixture,  but  it  is  always  com- 
prehended within  certain  limits. 


Such  is  the  connexion  of  general  ideas,  which  ne- 
cessarily follow  one  another  on  the  first  inspection 
of  this  subject.  It  shows  us  the  application  and  the 
proof  of  several  great  truths  previously  established. 
In  the  first  place  we  see  that  we  never  create  any 
thing  absolutely  new  and  extra-natural.  Thus, 
since  we  have  the  idea  of  value,  and  since  artificial 
and  conventional  values  exist  among  us,  it  was  ne- 
cessary there  should  be  somewhere  a  natural  and 
necessary  value.  Thus  the  labour,  from  whence  all 
our  goods  emanate,  has  a  value  of  this  kind,  and 
communicates  it  to  them.  This  value  is  that  of  the 
objects  necessary  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  wants, 
which  inevitably  arise  in  an  animated  being  during 
the  continuance  of  his  labour. 

Secondly,  we  have  seen  further,  that  to  measure 
any  quantity  whatsoever,  is  always  to  compare  it 
with  a  quantity  of  the  same  species,  and  that  it  is 
absolutely  necessary  that  this  quantity  should  be  of 
the  same  species,  without  which  it  could  not  serve 
as  an  unit  and  a  term  of  comparison.*  Thus, 
when  we  say  that  the  natural  and  necessary  value  of 
the  labor  which  an  animated  being  performs  during 
a  given  time  is  measured  by  the  indispensable  wants 
which  arise  in  this  being  during  the  same  time,  we 
give  really  for  the  measure  of  this  value  the  value 
of  a  certain  quantity  of  labour ;  for  the  goods  ne- 
cessary to  the  satisfaction  of  these  wants,  do  not 
themselves  derive  their  natural  and  necessary  va- 
lue but  from  the  labour  which  their  acquisition  has 
cost.  Thus  labour,  our  only  original  good,  is  only 

*    See  vol.  1st,  chap.  10th,  page  187,  and  following  2d  edition  : 
and  vol.  3d,  chap.  9th,  page  463. 


69 

valued  by  itself,  and  the  unit  is  of  the  same  kind  as 
the  quantities  calculated. 

Thirdly,  in  fine  we  have  seen  that,  for  a  calcula- 
tion to  be  just  and  certain,  the  unit  must  be  deter- 
mined in  a  manner  the  most  rigorous,  and  absolute- 
ly invariable.!     Here  unhappily  we  are  obliged  to 
acknowledge  that  our  unit  of  value  is  subject  to  va- 
riations, although  comprehended  within  certain  lim- 
its.    It  is  an  evil  we  cannot  remedy,  since  it  is  de- 
rived from  the  very  nature  of  an  animated   being, 
from  his  flexibility  and  his  suppleness.  We  must  ne- 
ver dissemble  this  evil.    It  was  essential  to  recog- 
nize it.   But  it  ought  not  to  prevent  us  from  making 
combinations  of  the  effects  of  our  faculties,  in  taking 
the  necessary  precautions ;  for  since  the  variations  of 
our  sensible  nature  are  comprehended  within  cer- 
tain limits,  we  can  always  apply  to  them  considera- 
tions drawn  from  the  theory  of  the  limits  of  num- 
bers.    But  this  observation  ought  to  teach  us  how 
very  delicate  and  scientific  is  the  calculation  of  all 
moral  and  economical  quantities,  how  much  precau- 
tion it  requires,  and  how  imprudent  it  is  to  wish  to 
apply  to  it  indiscreetly  the  rigorous  scale  of  num- 
bers.    However  it  be,  as  this  rapid  glance  on  the 
ideas  of  riches  and  poverty,  derived  from  the  senti- 
ment of  our  wants,  leads  us  to  speak  summarily  of 
all  our  goods,  we  ought  not  to  pass  in  silence  the 
greatest  of  all,  that  which  comprehends  them  all, 
without  which  none  of  them  would  exist,  which  we . 
may  call  the  only  good,  of  a  willing  being,  Liberty. 
It  merits  a  separate  article. 

(f)  See  vol.  3d,  chap.  9th,  page  500,  and  following-. 


70 


SECTION    FIFTH. 

From  the  faculty  of  willing  arise  likewise  the  ideas  of  liberty  and 
constraint. 

Nothing  would  be  mere  easy  than  to  inspire  some 
interest  in  all  generous  souls,  by  commencing  this 
chapter  with  a  kind  of  hymn  to  this  first  of  all  the 
goods  of  sensible  nature,  Liberty.  But  these  explo- 
sions of  sentiment,  have  no  object  but  to  electrize 
one's  self,  or  to  excite  the  feelings  of  those  whom 
we  address.  Now  a  man  who  sincerely  devotes 
himself  to  the  search  of  truth,  is  sufficiently  animat- 
ed by  the  end  he  proposes,  and  counts  on  the  same 
disposition  in  all  those  by  whom  he  wishes  to  be 
read.  The  love  of  what  is  good  and  true  is  a  real 
passion.  This  passion  is  I  believe  sufficiently  novel, 
at  least  it  seems  to  me  that  it  could  not  exist  in  all 
its  force,  but  since  it  has  been  proved  by  reasonings, 
and  by  facts,  that  the  happiness  of  man,  is  propor- 
tionate to  the  mass  of  his  intelligence,  and  that  the 
one  and  the  other  does  and  can  increase  indefinitely. 
But  since  these  two  truths  have  been  demonstrated, 
this  new  passion  which  characterizes  the  epoch  in 
which  we  live  is  not  rare,  whatever  may  be  said  of 
it,  and  it  is  as  energetic  and  more  constant  than  any 
other.  Let  us  not  then  seek  to  excite  but  to  satisfy  it, 
and  let  us  speak  of  liberty  as  coolly,  as  if  this  word 
itself  did  not  put  in  motion  all  the  powers  of  the  soul. 

I  say  that  the  idea  of  liberty  arises  from  the  facul- 
ty of  willing ;  for,  with  Locke,  I  understand  by  li- 
berty, the  power  of  executing  our  will,  of  acting 
conformably  with  our  desire.  And  I  maintain,  that 


71 

it  is  impossible  to  attach  any  clear  idea  to  this  word 
when  we  give  it  another  signification.  Thus  there 
would  be  no  liberty  were  there  no  will;  and  liberty 
cannot  exist  before  the  birth  of  will.  It  is  then 
real  nonsense,  to  pretend  that  the  will  is  free  to  ex- 
ist or  not.*  And  such  were  almost  all  the  famous 
decisions,  which  subjugated  the  mind  before  the 
birth  of  the  true  study  of  the  human  understanding. 
Accordingly  the  consequences  which  were  drawn 
from  these  pretended  principles,  and  especially 
from  this  one,  were  for  the  most  part  completely  ab- 
surd. But  this  is  not  the  time  to  occupy  ourselves 
with  them. 

Without  doubt,  we  cannot  too  often  repeat  it,  a 
sensible  being  cannot  will  without  a  motive,  he  can- 
not will  but  in  virtue  of  the  manner  in  which  he  is 
affected.  Thus  his  will  follows  from  his  anterior 
impressions,  quite  as  necessarily  as  every  effect  fol- 
lows the  cause  which  has  the  properties  necessary 
for  producing  it.  This  necessity  is  neither  a  good 
nor  an  evil  for  a  sensible  being.  It  is  the  conse-- 
quence  of  his  nature  ;  it  is  the  condition  of  his  exis- 
tence ;  it  is  the  datum  which  he  cannot  change,  and 
from  which  he  should  always  set  out  in  all  his 
speculations. 

But  when  a  will  is  produced  in  an  animated  be- 
ing, when  he  has  conceived  any  determination 
whatsoever,  this  sentiment  of  willing,  which  is 
always  a  suffering,  as  long  as  it  is  not  satisfied,  has 
in  recompense  the  admirable  property  of  reacting  on 
the  organs,  of  regulating  the  greater  part  of  their 
movements,  of  directing  the  employment  of  almost 

*  See  vol.  1st,  chap.  13th,  page  269,  2d  edition. 


all  the  faculties,  and  thereby  of  creating  all  the 
means  of  enjoyment  and  power  of  the  sensible  being, 
when  no  extraneous  force  restrains  him,  that  is  to 
say  when  the  willing  being;  is  free. 

V  C?  ™  «/ 

Liberty,  taken  in  this  its  most  general  sense,  (and 
the  only  reasonable  one)  signifying  the  power  of 
executing  our  will,  is  then  the  remedy  of  all  our  ills, 
the  accomplishment  of  all  our  desires,  the  satisfac- 
tion of  all  our  wants,  and  consequently  the  first  of 
all  our  goods,  that  which  produces  and  compre- 
hends them  all.  It  is  the  same  thing  as  our  hap- 
piness. It  has  the  same  limits,  or  rather  our  hap- 
piness cannot  have  either  more  or  less  extension 
than  our  liberty ;  that  is  to  say  than  our  power  of 
satisfying  our  desires.  Constraint  on  the  contrary, 
whatsoever  it  be,  is  the  opposite  of  liberty  ;  it  is  the 
cause  of  all  our  sufferings,  the  source  of  all  our  ills. 
It  is  even  rigorously  our  only  evil,  for  every  ill  is 
always  the  contrariety  of  a  desire.  We  should  as- 
suredly have  none,  if  we  were  free  to  deliver  our- 
selves from  it  whenever  we  should  wish;  it  is  truely 
the  Oromazis  and  Orismanes,  the  good  and  the  evil 
principle. 

The  constraint  from  which  we  suffer,  or  rather 
which  we  suffer,  since  it  is  itself  which  constitutes 
all  suffering,  may  be  of  different  natures,  and  is  sus- 
ceptible of  different  degrees.  It  is  direct  and  imme- 
diate, or  only  mediate  and  indirect.  It  comes  to  us 
from  animate  or  from  inanimate  beings,  it  is  invinci- 
ble or  may  be  surmounted.  That  which  is  the  effect  of 
physical  forces,  which  enchains  the  action  of  our  fa- 
culties, is  immediate,  while  that  which  is  the  result 
of  different  combinations  of  our  understanding,  or  of 


73 

-certain  moral  considerations,  is  but  indirect  and  me- 
diate, although  very  real  likewise.  The  one  and 
the  other,  according  to  circumstances,  may  be  insur- 
mountable, or  may  be  susceptible  of  yielding  to  our 
efforts. 

In  all  of  these  different  cases,  we  have  different 
methods  of  conducting  ourselves,  to  escape  from  the 
suffering  of  constraint,  to  effect  the  accomplishment 
of  our  desires,  in  a  word  to  arrive  at  satisfaction,  at 
happiness.  For  once  again  t  say  these  three  things 
are  one  and  the  same  Of  these  different  methods 
of  arriving  at  the  only  end  of  all  our  efforts  as  of  all 
our  desires,  of  all  our  wants,  as  of  all  our  means,  we 
should  always  take  those  which  are  most  capable  of 
conducting  us  to  it.  This  is  likewise  our  only  duty, 
that  which  comprehends  all  others.  The  mean  of 
fulfilling  this  only  duty,  is  in  the  first  place,  if  our 
desires  are  susceptible  of  satisfaction,  to  study  the  na- 
ture of  the  obstacles  opposed,  and  to  do  all  that  de- 
pends on  us  to  surmount  them ;  secondly,  if  our 
desires  cannot  be  accomplished,  but  by  submitting 
to  other  evils,  that  is  to  say  by  renouncing  other 
things,  which  we  desire,  to  balance  the  inconve- 
niences, and  decide  for  the  least ;  thirdly,  if  the 
success  of  our  desires  is  entirely  impossible,  we 
must  renounce  them,  and  withdraw  without  mur- 
muring within  the  limits  of  our  power.  Thus  all 
is  reduced  to  the  employment  of  our  intellectual 
faculties :  First,  in  properly  estimating  our  wants, 
then  in  extending  our  means,  as  far  as  possible ;  final- 
ly in  submitting  to  the  necessity  of  our  nature,  to 
the  invincible  condition  of  our  existence. 
10 


Butf  I  perceive  that  I  have  mentioned  the  word 
duty.  The  idea  which  this  word  expresses  well 
merits  a  separate  chapter.  It  is  sufficient  in  this  to 
have  terminated  the  examination  of  all  our  goods,  by 
showing  that  since  all  our  means  of  happiness  con- 
sist in  the  voluntary  employment  of  our  faculties, 
Liberty,  the  power  of  acting  according  to  our  will, 
includes  all  our  goods,  is  our  only  good,  and  that 
our  only  duty  is  to  encrease  this  power,  and  to  use 
it  well,  that  is  to  say  so  to  use  it  as  not  ultimately 
to  cramp  and  restrain  it. 

Would  it  be  desired,  before  quitting  this  subject, 
to  apply  to  this  first  of  all  goods,  Liberty,  the  idea 
of  value,  which  we  have  seen  arise  necessarily  from 
the  idea  of  good?  And  would  it  be  asked,  what  is 
the  value  of  liberty  ?  It  is  evident  that  the  sum  of 
the  liberty  of  a  being  feeling  and  willing,  being  the 
power  of  using  his  faculties  according  to  his  will,  the 
entire  value  of  this  liberty  is  equal  to  the  entire  value 
of  the  employment  of  the  faculties  of  this  being ; 
that  if  from  this  sum  of  liberty  a  portion  only  be  de- 
tracted, the  value  of  the  portion  detracted  is  equal 
to  the  value  of  the  faculties,  from  the  exercise  of 
which  he  is  debarred,  and  that  the  value  of  that  which 
remains  to  him  is  the  same  with  that  of  the  faculties, 
the  use  of  which  he  still  preserves ;  and,  finally,  it 
is  also  manifest  that,  however  feeble  the  faculties  of 
an  animated  being,  the  absolute  loss  of  his  liberty  is 
for  him  a  loss  truly  infinite,  and  one  to  which  he  can- 
not set  any  price,  since  it  is  absolutely  every  thing 
for  him,  it  is  the  extinction  of  every  possibility  of 
happiness  5  it  is  the  loss  of  the  gum  total  of  his 


75 

being;  it  can  admit  of  no  compensation,  and  deprives 
him  of  the  disposal  of  what  he  might  receive  in 
return. 

These  general  notions  suffice  for  the  moment.  I 
will  add  but  one  reflection.  It  is  commonly  said 
that  man,  entering  a  state  of  society,  sacrifices  a 
portion  of  his  liberty  to  secure  the  remainder.  Af- 
ter what  we  have  just  said,  this  expression  is  not 
exact.  It  does  not  give  a  just  idea  either  of  the 
cause  or  of  the  effect,  nor  even  of  the  origin  of  human 
societies.  In  the  first  place,  man  never  lives  com- 
pletely  insulated ;  he  cannot  exist  thus,  at  least  in 
his  first  infancy.  Thus  the  state  of  society  does  not 
commence  for  him  on  a  fixed  day,  or  from  premeditated 
<lesign ;  it  is  established  insensibly,  and  by  degrees. 
Secondly,  man  in  associating  himself  more  and  more^ 
with  his  fellow  beings,  and  in  daily  connecting  him- 
self more  closely  with  them,  by  tacit  or  express  con- 
ventions, does  not  calculate  on  diminishing  his  an- 
terior liberty,  or  on  weakening  the  total  power  of 
executing  his  will,  which  he  previously  had.  He 
has  always  in  view  its  increase*  If  he  renounces 
certain  modes  of  employing  it,  it  is  that  he  may  be 
assisted,  or  at  least  not  opposed,  in  other  uses  which 
he  may  wish  to  make  of  it,  and  which  he  judges 
more  important  to  him.  He  consents  that  his  will 
should  be  a  little  restrained,  in  certain  cases,  by  that 
of  his  fellow  beings :  but  it  is  that  it  may  be  much 
more  powerful  over  all  other  beings,  and  even  on 
these  themselves  on  other  occasions,  so  that  the  total 
mass  of  power,  or  of  liberty,  which  he  possesses 
should  be  thereby  augmented.  This  I  think  is  the 
idea  which  should  be  formed  of  the  effect  and  the 


76 

cud  of  the  gradual  establishment  of  the  social  state. 
Whenever  it  does  not  produce  this  result,  it  does  not 
attain  its  destination :  but  it  attains  it  always  in  a 
greater  or  less  degree,  notwithstanding  its  universal 
and  enormous  imperfections.  We  will  elsewhere 
develope  the  consequences  of  these  observations. 
Now  let  us  go  on  to  the  examination  of  the  idea  of 
duty. 


SECTION    SIXTH. 

Finally,  from  the  faculty  of  willing  arise  the  ideas  of  rights  and  ofdutiet. 

The  ideas  of  rights  and  of  duties  are,  by  some, 
said  to  be  correspondent  and  correlative.  I  do  not 
deny  them  to  be  so,  in  our  social  relations ;  but  this 
truth,  if  it  is  one,  requires  many  explanations.  Let 
us  examine  different  cases. 

Let  us  make  in  the  first  place  a  supposition  abso- 
lutely ideal.  Let  us  imagine  a  being  feeling  and 
willing,  but  incapable  of  all  action,  a  simple  monad, 
endowed  with  the  faculty  of  willing,  but  deprived  of 
a  body,  and  of  every  organ  on  which  its  will  can  re- 
act, and  by  which  it  could  produce  any  effect,  or 
have  influence  on  any  other  being.  It  is  manifest 
that  such  a  being  would  have  no  right,  in  the  sense 
we  often  give  to  this  word,  that  is  to  say  none  of  those 
rights  which  comprehend  the  idea  of  a  correspondent 
duty  in  another  sensible  being,  since  it  is  not  in  con- 
tact with  any  being  whatsoever.  But  to  the  eyes  of 
reason  and  of  universal  justice,  such  as  the  human 


77 

mid erstanding  can  conceive  them,,  (for  we  can  never 
speak  of  other  things)  this  monad  has  clearly  the 
right  to  satisfy  his  desires  and  to  appease  his  wants; 
for  this  violates  no  law,  natural  or  artificial.  It  is,  on 
the  contrary,  to  follow  the  laws  of  his  nature  and  to 
obey  the  conditions  of  his  existence. 

At  the  same  time  this  monad,  having  no  power  of 
action,  no  means  of  laboring  for  the  satisfaction  of  his 
wants,  has  no  duty  :  for  it  could  not  have  the  duty 
of  employing  in  one  way  rather  than  another  the 
means  which  it  has  not,  of  performing  one  action 
rather  than  another,  since  it  cannot  perform  any 
action. 

This  supposition  then  shows  us  two  things ;  first, 
as  we  have  already  said,  that  all  our  rights  arise  from 
wants,  and  all  duties  from  means ;  secondly,  that 
Fights  may  exist,  in  the  most  general  sense  of  this 
word,  without  correspondent  duties  on  the  part  of 
other  beings,  nor  even  on  the  part  of  the  being  pos- 
sessing these  rights :  Consequently  these  two  ideas 
are  not  as  essentially  and  necessarily  correspondent, 
and  correlative,  as  is  commonly  believed ;  for  they 
are  not  so  in  their  origin.  Now  let  us  state  another 
hypothesis. 

Let  us  suppovse  a  being  feeling  and  willing,  consti 
tuted  as  we  are,  that  is  to  say  endowed  with  organs 
and  faculties  which  his  will  puts  in  action,  but  com- 
pletely  separated  from  every  other  sensible  being, 
and  in  contact  only  with  inanimate  beings,  if  there 
be  such,  or  at  least  only  with  beings  which  should  not 
manifest  to  him  the  phenomenon  of  sentiment,  as  there- 
are  many  such  for  us.  In  this  state  this  being  still 
has  not  those  rights,  taken  in  the  restrained  sense,  of 


this  word,  which  embrace  the  idea  of  a  correspon- 
dent duty  in  another  sensible  being,  since  he  is  not 
in  relation  with  any  being  of  this  kind;  yet  he  has 
clearly  the  general  right,  like  the  monad  of  which 
we  have  just  spoken,  of  procuring  for  himself  the  ac- 
complishment of  his  desires,  or,  which  is  the  same 
thing,  of  providing  for  his  wants ;  because  this  is  for 
him,  as  for  it,  to  obey  the  laws  of  his  nature,  and  to 
conform  himself  to  the  condition  of  his  existence; 
and  this  being  is  such  that  it  cannot  be  moved  by  any 
other  impulsion,  nor  have  any  other  principle  of 
action.  This  willing  being  has  then,  in  this  case, 
all  imaginable  rights.  We  may  even  see  that  his 
rights  are  truly  infinite,  since  they  are  bounded  by 
nothing.  At  least  they  have  no  limits  but  those  of 
his  desires  themselves,  from  which  these  emanate^ 
and  which  are  their  only  source. 

But  here  there  is  something  more  than  in  the  first 
hypothesis.  This  being,  endowed  like  ourselves 
with  organs  and  faculties  which  his  will  puts  into 
motion,  is  not  as  the  simple  monad  of  which  we 
spoke  before.  He  has  means,  therefore  he  has  du- 
ties ;  for  he  has  the  duty  of  well  employing  these 
means.  But  every  duty  supposes  a  punishment  in- 
curred by  an  infraction  of  it,  a  law  which  pronounces 
this  punishment,  a  tribunal  which  applies  this  law  t 
accordingly  in  the  case  in  question  the  punishment 
of  the  being  of  which  we  speak,  for  not  rightly  em- 
ploying his  means,  is  to  see  them  produce  effects 
less  favorable  to  his  satisfaction,  or  even  to  see  them 
produce  such  as  are  entirely  destructive  of  it.  The 
laws  which  pronounce  this  punishment,  are  those  of 
the  organization  of  this  willing  and  acting  being : 


79 

they  are  the  conditions  of  his  existence.  The  tri- 
bunal which  applies  these  laws  is  that  of  necessity 
itself,  against  which  he  cannot  guard  himself.  Thus 
the  being  which  occupies  us  has,  incontestably,  the 
duty  of  well  employing  his  means,  since  he  has  them; 
and  of  observing  that  this  general  duty  comprehends 
that  of  well  appreciating,  in  the  first  place,  the  desires 
or  wants  which  these  means  are  destined  to  satisfy, 
of  well  studying  afterwards  these  means  themselves, 
their  extent  and  their  limits,  and,  finally,  of  labour- 
ing in  consequence  to  restrain  the  one  and  extend  the 
other  as  much  as  possible  :  for  his  unhappiness  will 
never  proceed  but  from  the  inferiority  of  means  rela- 
tively to  wants,  since  if  wants  were  always  satisfied 
there  would  be  no  possibility  of  suffering.  The  in- 
sulated being  in  question,  has  then  rights  proceeding 
all  from  his  wants,  and  duties  arising  all  out  of  his 
means ;  and,  in  whatever  position  you  place  him,  he 
will  never  have  rights  or  duties  of  another  nature  : 
for  all  those  of  which  he  may  become  susceptible 
will  arise  from  these,  and  will  only  be  their  conse- 
quences. We  may  even  say  that  all  proceed  from 
his  wants,  for  if  he  had  not  wants  he  would  not  need 
means  to  satisfy  them ;  it  would  not  even  be  possible 
he  should  have  any  means.  Thus  it  would  not  be 
conceivable  that  he  could  have  any  duty  whatsoever. 
If  you  wish  to  convince  yourself  of  this,  try  to  punish 
an  impassive  being.  I  have  then  had  reason  to  say, 
that  from  the  willing  faculty  arise  the  ideas  of  rights 
and  of  duties  ;  and  I  can  add,  with  assurance,  that 
these  ideas  of  rights  and  duties  are  not  so  exactly 
correspondent,  and  correlative,  the  one  with  the  other, 
as  they  are  commonly  said  to  be :  but  that  that  of 


80 

duties  is  subordinate  to  that  of  rights,  as  that  of 
means  is  to  that  of  wants,  since  we  can  conceive 
rights  without  duties,  as  in  our  first  hypothesis ;  and 
in  the  second  there  are  duties  only  because  tiiere  are 
wants,  and  that  they  consist  only  in  the  general  du- 
ty of  satisfying  these  wants. 

The  better  to  convince  ourselves  of  these  two 
truths,  let  us  make  a  third  supposition:  let  us  place 
this  being,  organised  as  we  are  in  relation  with  other 
beings,  feeling  and  willing  like  himself,  and  acting 
also  in  virtue  of  their  will,  but  which  are  such  that 
he  cannot  correspond  fully  with  them,  nor  perfectly 
comprehend  their  ideas  and  their  motives.  These 
animatetl  beings  have  their  rights  also,  proceeding 
from  their  wants :  but  this  operates  no  change  in 
those  of  the  being  whose  destiny  we  investigate.  He 
has  the  same  rights  as  before,  since  he  has  the  same 
wants.  He  has,  moreover,  the  same  general  duty 
of  employing  his  means  so  as  to  procure  the  satisfac- 
tion of  his  wants.  Thus  he  has  the  duty  of  conduct- 
ing himself  with  those  beings  which  show  themselves 
to  be  feeling  and  willing,  otherwise  than  with  those, 
which  appear  to  him  inanimate ;  for  as  they  act  in 
consequence  of  their  will  it  is  his  duty  to  conciliate 
or  subjugate  that  will  in  order  to  bring  them  to 
contribute  to  the  satisfaction  of  his  desires,  and  as  he 
is  supposed  incapable  of  communicating  completely 
with  them,  and  consequently  of  forming  any  conven- 
tion with  them,  he  has  no  other  means  of  directing 
their  will  towards  the  accomplishment  of  his  desires, 
and  the  satisfaction  of  his  wants,  than  immediate  per- 
suasion or  direct  violence.  And  he  employs,  and 
ought  to  employ,  the  one  and  the  other  according  to 


circumstances,  without  any  other  consideration  than 
of  producing  the  effects  he  desires. 

In  truth  this  being,  organized  as  we  are,  is  such, 
that  a  view  of  sensible  nature  inspires  in  him  the 
desire  to  sympathize  with  it,  that  it  should  enjoy  of 
his  enjoyments  and  suffer  of  his  sufferings.  This 
is  a  new  want  which  it  produces  in  him,  and  we 
shall  see  in  the  sequel  that  it  is  not  one  of  those  of 
which  he  ought  to  endeavour  to  rid  himself,  for  it  is 
useful  for  him  to  be  submitted  to  it.  He  ought  then 
to  satisfy  it  as  the  others,  and  consequently  he  is  un- 
der the  duty  of  sparing  to  himself  the  pain  which  the 
sufferings  of  sensible  beings  cause  him,  so  far  as  his 
other  wants  do  not  oblige  him  to  support  this  pain. 
This  is  still  a  consequence  of  the  general  duty  of 
satisfying  all  his  desires. 

The  picture  which  we  have  just  drawn  according 
to  theory  is  the  simple  exposition  of  our  relations 
with  animals  taken  in  general,  which  relations  are 
afterwards  modified  in  particular  cases  according  to 
the  degree  of  knowledge  we  have  of  their  sentiments, 
and  according  to  the  relations  of  habit  and  reciprocal 
benevolence  which  take  place  between  us  and  them, 
as  between  us  and  our  fellow  beings.  I  believe  this 
picture  to  be  a  very  faithful  representation  of  these 
relations ;  for  it  is  equally  remote  from  that  sentimen- 
tal exaggeration  which  would  make  criminal  in  us 
any  destruction  whatever  of  these  animals,  and  from 
the  systematic  barbarity  which  would  make  us  con- 
sider as  legitimate  their  most  useless  sufferings,  or 
even  persuade  us  that  the  pain  which  a  sensible 
being  manifests,  is  not  pain  when  this  sensible  being 
is  not  made  exactly  like  ourselves. 
11 


82 

In  fact  these  two  systems  are  equally  false.  The 
first  is  untenable,  because  in  practice  it  is  absolutely 
impossible  to  follow  it  rigorously.  It  is  evident  that 
we  should  be  violently  destroyed,  or  slowly  famish- 
ed arid  eaten,  by  the  other  animated  beings  if  we 
never  destroyed  them;  and  that  even  with  the  most 
minute  attention  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  avoid 
causing  a  great  number  of  beings,  more  or  less  per- 
cepiible  to  our  senses,  to  suffer  and  die.  Now  we 
have  incontestably  the  right  to  act  and  to  live,  since 
we  are  born  for  the  one  as  well  as  for  the  other. 

The  second  system  is  not  less  erroneous,  for  in 
.  theory  it  rashly  establishes  between  the  different 
states  of  sensible  nature  a  line  of  separation  which 
no  phenomenon  authorizes  us  to  admit.  There  is 
absolutely  no  one  fact  which  gives  us  a  right  to  af- 
firm, nor  even  to  suppose  that  the  state  of  suffering 
in  the  animated  beings  with  which  we  communicate 
imperfectly,  is  not  exactly  the  same  thing  as  it  is  ia_ 
us  or  in  our  fellow  beings  ;*  and  on  this  gratuitous 
supposition,  this  system  condemns  us  to  combat  and 
destroy  as  a  weakness  the  sentiment,  the  want  the 
most  general  and  imperious  of  human  nature,  that 
of  sympathy  and  commiseration ;  a  want  which  we 
shall  soon  see  is  the  most  happy  result  of  our  organ- 
ization, and  without  which  our  existence  would  be- 
come  very  miserable,  and  even  impossible.  More- 
over, in  practice  this  system  is  opposed  to  the  usage 
the  most  universal  of  all  times  and  of  all  individuals ; 
•for  there  has  never  been,  1  believe,  an  animal  in  the 
human  form,  which  has  sincerely  and  originally  felt 

i 

4  Always  perhnps  with  a  degree  of  energy  proportionate  to  the  per- 
ftttion  of  the  organization. 


88 

that  a  sight  of  suffering,  accurately  expressed,  was  a 
thing  of  indifference.  The  indifference  which  is  the 
fruit  of  habit,  and  the  pleasure  even  of  cruelty,  for 
cruelty  sake,  a  frightful  pleasure,  which  may  have 
been  produced  in  some  denaturalized  beings  by  ac- 
cidental causes,  proves  that  it  is  the  case  of  a  natural 
inclination  surmounted  by  time,  or  overcome  by  ef- 
fort, and  by  the  pleasure  which  arises  in  us  from 
every  effort  followed  by  success.  As  to  that  cruel- 
ty which  is  the  product  of  vengeance,  it  is  a  proof 
the  more  of  the  thesis  I  sustain;  for  it  is  because  of 
the  profound  sentiment  that  the  vindictive  being  has 
of  suffering,  that  he  wishes  to  produce  it  in  the  one 
that  is  odious  to  him,  and  he  always  partakes  more 
or  less  involuntarily  and  forcibly  of  the  evil  which 
he  causes. 

These  two  opposite  systems,  but  both  fruits  of  a 
derangement  of  the  imagination,  are  then  equally  ab- 
surd in  theory  and  practice ;  this,  of  itself,  is  a  great 
presumption  in  favour  of  the  intermediate  opinion 
w-  ich  I  establish,  which  moreover  is  found  to  be 
conformable  to  the  usage  of  all  times  and  all  places, 
and  to  furnish  reason  from  the  conditions  of  our  na- 
ture, well  observed,  for  what  our  manner  of  being,  in 
respect  to  the  animals,  has  in  it  singular  and  contra- 
dictory at  the  first  glance.  But  what  is  more  forcible, 
and  absolutely  convincing,  in  my  opinion,  is  that  the 
same  principle  which  I  have  established,  that  our 
rights  are  always  without  limits,  or  at  least  equal  to 
our  wants,  and  that  our  duties  are  never  but  the  ^en- 
rol duty  of  satisfying  our  wants,  will  explain  to  us  all 
our  relations  with  our  fellow  beings,  and  establish 
them  on  immoveable  bases,  and  such  as  will  be  the 
same  everywhere,  and  always,  in  all  countries,  and 


in  all  times,  in  which  our  intimate  nature  shall  not 
have  changed. 

Let  us  now  make  a  fourth  hypothesis  which  is  that 
in  which  we  are  all  placed.  Let  us  suppose  the  ani- 
mated being  we  are  now  considering  in  contact  with 
other  beings  like  himself.  These  beings  have  wants, 
and  consequently  rights,  as  he  has,  but  this  makes 
no  change  in  his.  He  has  always  as  many  rights 
as  wants,  and  the  general  duty  of  satisfying  these 
wants.  If  he  could  not  communicate  completely 
with  these  beings  like  himself,  and  make  conven- 
tions with  them,  he  would  be  in  respect  to  them  in 
the  state  in  which  we  all  are,  and  in  which  as  we 
have  just  seen  we  have  reason  to  be  in  regard  to  the 
other  animals. 

Will  any  one  say  this  is  a  state  of  war?  He  will 
be  wrong.  This  would  be  an  exaggeration.  The 
state  of  war  is  that  in  which  we  incessantly  seek  the 
destruction  of  one  another;  because  we  cannot  as- 
sure ourselves  of  our  own  preservation,  but  by  the 
annihilation  of  our  enemy.  We  are  not  in  such  a 
relation,  but  with  those  animals  whose  instinct  con- 
stantly leads  them  to  hurt  us.  It  is  not  so  as  to  the 
others ;  even  those  which  we  sacrifice  to  our  wants, 
we  attack  only  inasmuch  as  these  wants,  more  or  less 
pressing,  force  us.  There  are  some  of  them  which 
live  with  us  in  a  state  of  peaceable  subjection,  others 
in  perfect  indifference.  With  all  we  wound  their 
will  only  because  it  is  contrary  to  ours,  and  not  for 
the  pleasure  of  wounding  it.  There  is  even  in  regard 
to  all  this  general  necessity  of  sympathising  with 
sensible  nature,  which  pains  us  at  the  sight  of  their 
suffering,  and  which  unites  us  more  or  less  with  them. 


85 

This  state  then  is  not  essentially  a  state  of  hostility. 
It  frequently  becomes  such ;  but  this  is  by  accident. 
It  is  essentially  the  state  of  alienage  (d'etrangete) 
if  we  may  thus  express  ourselves.  It  is  that  of  be- 
ings, willing  and  acting  separately,  each  for  his  own 
satisfaction,  without  being  able  to  explain  themselves 
mutually,  or  to  make  conventions  for  the  regulation 
of  the  cases  in  which  their  wills  are  opposed. 

Such,  as  we  have  said,  would  be  the  relations  of 
man  with  his  fellow  men,  if  his  means  of  communi- 
cating with  them  were  very  imperfect.  He  would 
not  be  precisely  for  them  an  enemy,  but  an  indiffer- 
ent stranger.  His  relations  would  even  then  be  sof- 
tened by  the  necessity  of  sympathising,  which  is 
much  stronger  in  him  in  the  case  of  animals  of  his 
own  species;  and  we  must  still  add  to  this  necessity 
that  of  love,  which  strengthens  it  extremely  in  many 
circumstances,  for  love  has  not  perfect  enjoyment 
without  mutual  consent,  without  a  very  lively  sym- 
pathy ;  and  when  this  sympathy,  necessary  to  the 
full  satisfaction  of  the  desire,  has  existed,  it  frequent- 
ly gives  birth  to  habits  of  good  will,  from  whence 
arises  the  sentiment  of  fraternity,  which  produces  in 
its  turn  ties  more  durable  and  more  tender. 

Nevertheless,  in  this  state  quarrels  are  frequent ; 
and,  properly  speaking,  justice  and  injustice  do  not 
yet  exist.  The  rights  of  the  one  do  not  affect  the 
rights  of  the  other.  Every  one  has  as  many  rights 
as  wants,  and  the  general  duty  of  satisfying  these 
wants  without  any  foreign  consideration.  There 
does  not  begin  to  be  any  restrictions  on  these  rights 
and  this  duty,  or  rather  on  the  manner  of  fulfilling 
this  duty,  but  at  the  moment  in  which  means  of  mu- 


86 

tual  understanding  are  established ;  and  consequent- 
ly conventions  tacit  or  formal.  There  solely  is  the 
birth  of  justice  and  injustice,  that  is  to  say  of  the 
balance  between  the  rights  of  one  and  the  rights  of 
another,  which  necessarily  were  equal  till  this  in- 
stant.  The  Greeks  who  called  Ceres  Legislatria? 
were  wrong.  It  is  to  grammar,  to  language,  they 
ought  to  have  given  this  title.  They  had  placed  the 
origin  of  laws,  and  of  justice,  at  the  moment  in  which 
men  have  amongst  them  relations  more  stable,  and 
conventions  more  numerous.  But  they  ought  to  have 
remounted  to  the  birth  of  the  first  conventions,  infor- 
mal or  explicit.  In  every  way  the  duty  of  moderns 
is  to  penetrate  further  and  more  profoundly  than  the 
ancients.  Hobbes,  then,  was  certainly  right  in  esta- 
blishing the  foundation  of  all  justice  on  conversa- 
tions ;  but  he  was  wrong  in  saying  before,  that  the 
anterior  state  is  rigorously  and  absolutely  a  state  of 
war,  and  that  this  is  our  true  instinct,  and  the  wish 
of  our  nature.  Were  this  the  case  we  should  never 
have  withdrawn  from  it.*  A  false  principle  has  led 
him  to  an  excellent  consequence.  It  has  always  ap- 
peared to  me  singularly  remarkable,  that  this  philos* 
opher,  who  of  all  men  who  have  ever  written  is  per- 
haps the  most  recommendable  for  the  rigorous  con- 

*  We  must  however  admit  that  nature,  or  the  order  of  things,  such  as 
they  are,  in  creating  the  rights  of  every  animated  individual,  equal  and 
opposed  to  those  of  another,  has  virtually  and  indirectly  created  the 
state  of  war ;  and  that  it  is  art  which  has  caused  it  to  cease,  or  at  least 
has  frequently  suspended  it  amongst  us,  by  conventions.  This  still 
Agrees  with  our  general  principle,  that  we  create  nothing;  were  there 
not  natural  and  necessary  wars,  there  never  would  have  been  any  con- 
ventional and  artificial  ones.  The  invincibly  permanent  state  of  the 
relations  of  man  with  animals  of  other  species,  is  what  disposes  him  most 
*:o  treat  his  fellow  beings  in  an  hostile  manner. 


87 

catenation  and  close  connexion  of  his  ideas,  should 
not  however  have  arrived  at  this  fine  conception  of 
the  necessity  for  conventions,  the  source  of  all  jus- 
tice, but,  by  starting  from  a  false  or  at  least  an  inex- 
act principle,  (a  state  of  war  the  natural  state)  ;  and 
that  from  the  just  and  profound  sentiment  of  the 
want  of  peace  among  men,  he  has  been  led  to  a  false 
idea  the  necessity  of  servitude.  When  we  see  such 
examples,  how  ought  we  to  tremble  in  enouncing  an 
opinion?* 

Yet  I  cannot  help  believing  that  which  I  have  just 
explained  to  be  true. 

It  seems  to  me  proved,  that  from  our  faculty  of  wil- 
ling proceed  the  ideas  of  rights  and  duties  ;  that 
from  our  wants  proceed  all  our  rights,  and  from  our 
means  all  our  duties  ;  that  we  have  always  as  many 
rights  as  wants,  and  the  single  duty  of  providing 
for  these  wants  ;  that  the  wants  and  the  rights  of 
other  sensible  beings,  whether  of  our  own  or  a  dif- 
ferent  species,  do  not  affect  ours  ;  that  our  rights  do 
not  begin  to  be  restrained,  but  at  the  moment  of  the 
birth  of  conventions;  that  our  general  duty  is  not 
changed  for  this  as  to  its  foundation,  but  only  to  the 
manner  of  fulfilling  it;  and  that  it  is  at  this  moment 
alone,  that  justice  and  injustice  properly  so  called 
commence. 

It  is  not  yet  the  time  to  dev  elope  all  the  conse- 
quences of  these  principles,  but  it  is  time  to  termi- 
nate this  long  preliminary,  by  the  reflections  to  which 
it  gives  rise. 


*  This  latter  error  of  Hobbes  has  rot,  however,  been  produced  i 
excellent  head,  but  by  the  too  energetic  impression  made  by  the  un- 
happiness  of  his  country  ;  which  unhappiness  was  Caused  by  efforts, 
the  object  of  which  in  their  origin  was  resistance  to  oppression. 


88 


SECTION    SEVENTH.' 


Conclusion. 


The  general  considerations  on  which  we  have  just 
dwelt,  are  those  which  first  present  themselves  to 
our  understanding  when  we  begin  to  observe  our 
will.  However  little  we  reflect  thereon,  we  see  first 
that  it  is  a  mode  of  our  sensibility,  which  arises  from 
a  judgment,  clear  or  confused,  formed  on  what  we 
feel,  that  if  our  pure  and  simple  sensibility  begins  to 
give  us  an  obscure  idea  of  our  self,  and  of  the  pos- 
session of  its  affections,  this  admirable  mode  of  our 
sensibility,  which  we  call  will,  by  the  resistance  it 
experiences,  causes  us  to  know  beings  different  from 
us,  and  completes  our  idea  of  individuality,  of  per- 
sonality, and  property,  exclusive  of  whatsoever  af- 
fects us.*  It  is  not  less  visible,  that  this  faculty  of 
willing  is  the  source  of  all  our  wants,  and  of  all  our 
miseries  ;  for  an  indifferent  being  would  be  impas- 
sive; and  it  is  equally  manifest  that  this  same  facul- 
ty, by  the  wonderful  power  it  has  of  putting  our  or- 
gans into  action,  and  of  giving  motion  to  our  mem- 
bers, is  also  the  source  of  all  our  means  and  of  all  our 
resources  ;  for  all  our  power  consists  in  the  employ- 
ment of  our  physical  and  intellectual  forces. 

It  follows  from  this,  that  every  animated  being,  in 
virtue  of  the  laws  of  his  nature,  has  the  right  of  satisfy- 
ing all  his  desires,  which  are  his  wants,  and  the  sole 
duty  of  employing  his  means  in  the  best  possible 

*  This  truth  has  been  developed  vol.  1st.  chapter  of  existence,  and 
in  different  parts  of  the  two  other  volumes. 


.89 

manner  for  the  attainment  of  this  object.;  for  endow- 
ed with  passion,  he  cannot  be  condemned  to  suffer 
but  as  little  as  possible,  and  endowed  with  action, 
he  ought  to  avail  himself  of  it  to  this  end.  It  follows 
thence,  further,  that  liberty,  the  power  of  executing 
his  will,  is  for  a  willing  being  the  first  good,  and  in- 
cludes them  all,  for  he  would  be  always  happy  if  he 
had  always  the  power  of  satisfying  all  his  desires ; 
and  all  his  ills  consist  always  in  constraint,  that  is 
to  say  in  the  inability  to  satisfy  himself. 

We  see  moreover  that  the  employment  of  our  force, 
labour  of  every  kind,  is  our  only  primitive  riches, 
the  source  of  all  others,  the  first  cause  of  their  value, 
and  that  labour  itself  has  always  two  values.  The  one 
is  natural  and  necessary  :  it  is  that  of  all  those  things 
which  are  indispensable  to  the  satisfaction  of  the 
wants  of  the  animated  being  which  performs  this  la- 
bour  during  the  time  he  is  performing  it.  The  other 
is  eventual,  and  often  conventional :  it  consists  in  thei 
mass  of  utility  that  results  from  this  same  labour. 

In  fine  we  see,  with  equal  clearness,  that  the 
manner  of  fulfilling  our  single  duty,  that  of  well  em- 
ploying our  means,  varies  according  to  the  circum- 
stances in  which  we  are  placed;  whether  it  be  when 
we  are  in  contact  with  those  beings  only  which  do 
not  manifest  any  sensibility,  or  when  we  have  to  do 
with  animated  beings,  but  to  which  we  can  make 
ourselves  but  imperfectly  understood,  or  when  we 
are  in  relation  with  sensible  beings  like  ourselves, 
with  whom  We  can  perfectly  correspond  and  make 
conventions.  At  this  point  justice  and  injustice,  pro- 
perly so  called,  and  true  society,  commence;  the  ob- 
ject and  motive  of  which  is  always  to  augment  the 


90 

power  of  every  one,  by  making  that  of  others  concur 
with  it,  and  by  preventing  them  from  reciprocally 
hurting  one  another. 

All  these  first  ideas  are  good  and  sound,  at  least 
I  think  so,  and  begin  already  to  throw  some  light  on 
the  subject  with  which  we  are  occupied;  but  they  are 
far  from  being  sufficient.  They  do  not  sufficiently 
inform  us  what  are  the  numerous  results  of  the  em- 
ployment of  our  force,  of  our  labour,  in  a  word  of  our 
actions,  and  what  new  interests  their  combinations 
produce  among  us,  nor  what  are  the  different  senti- 
ments which  germinate  from  our  first  desires,  or  what 
they  have  useful  or  injurious  to  the  happiness  of  all 
and  every  one :  nor,  finally,  what  is  the  best  possi- 
ble direction  of  these  actions  and  sentiments.  These 
are,  however,  so  many  subjects  necessary  to  be  treat- 
ed of  in  order  to  give  a  complete  history  of  the  will 
and  Us  effects;  and  it  is  there  we  find  again  the  divi- 
sion we  announced.  It  is  requisite  then  to  enter- 
into  further  details,  and  I  will  now  begin  to  speak  of 
our  actions. 


OF  OUR  ACTIONS 


1  »  I 


(U  \LIY< 

FIRST  PART 

OF   THE 

TREATISE  ON  THE  WILL  AND  ITS  EFFECTS. 

OF  OUR  ACTIONS. 
CHAPTER  I. 

OJ  Society. 

The  introduction  which  has  been  just  read  is  con- 
secrated entirely  to  an  examination  of  the  genera- 
tion of  some  very  general  ideas;  the  casting  of  a 
first  glance  on  the  nature  of  that  mode  of  our  sensi- 
bility which  we  call  the  will,  or  the  faculty  of  will- 
ing ;  and  to  the  indication  of  some  of  its  immediate 
and  universal  consequences. 

We  have  therein  seen  summarily  ;  first,  what  are 
inanimate  or  insensible  beings,  such  as  many  appear 
to  us,  which  may  well  exist  for  the  sensible  beings, 
which  they  affect,  but  which  do  not  exist  for  them- 
selves, since  they  do  not  percieve  it;  second,  what 
would  be  the  nature  of  beings  feeling,  but  feeling 
every  thing  with  indifference,  so  that  from  their  sensi- 
bility no  choice,  no  preference,  no  desire,  in  a  word 
no  will  would  result ;  third,  what  are  those  beings 
sentient  and  willing,  such  as  all  the  animals  with 
which  we  are  acquainted,  and  especially  as  our- 
selves, but  insulated;  fourth,  and  in  fine,  what  be- 
ings, feeling  and  willing  in  our  way,  become  when, 
they  are  iu  contact  and  iy,  relation  with  other  ani- 


mals  of  their  species  similar  to  themselves,  and  with 
whom  they  can  fully  correspond. 

These  preliminaries  were  necessary,  that  the 
reader  might  readily  follow  the  series  of  ideas,  and 
clearly  perceive  the  connexion,  of  this  second  section 
of  the  elements  of  ideology  with  that  which  precedes 
it.  But  it  would  be  inconvenient,  in  a  treatise  on  the 
will,  to  say  more  of  beings  not  endowed  with  this 
intellectual  faculty ;  and  it  would  not  be  less  super- 
fluous, having  the  human  species  principally  in  view, 
to  occupy  ourselves  longer  with  beings  that  should  be 
sentient  and  willing,  but  living  insulated. 

Man  cannot  exist  thus ;  this  is  proved  by  the  fact, 
for  we  have  never  seen  in  any  corner  of  the  world 
an  animal  in  the  human  form,  however  brutish  he 
might  be,  which  has  no  kind  of  relation  with  any 
other  animal  of  his  own  species :  that  is  not  less  de- 
monstrated by  reasoning.  For  such  an  individual, 
strictly  speaking,  may  exist  although  very  misera- 
bly, yet  certainly  he  could  not  reproduce  himself. 
That  the  species  may  be  perpetuated,  it  is  indispen- 
sable that  the  two  sexes  should  unite;  it  is  even  ne- 
cessary that  the  infant,  produced  by  their  union, 
should  receive  for  along  time  the  cares  of  his  parents, 
or  at  least  those  of  his  mother.  Now  we  are  so  form- 
ed  that  we  have  all,  more  or  less,  a  natural  and  in- 
nate inclination  to  sympathy ;  that  is  to  say  we  all 
experience  pleasure  from  sharing  our  impressions,  our 
Affections,  our  sentiments,  and  those  of  our  fellow 
creatures.  Perhaps  this  inclination  exists  amongst 
all  animated  beings  ;  perhaps  even  it  is  in  us  from 
the  origin  a  considerable  part  of  that  which  so  power- 
fully attracts  the  two  sexes  towards  each  other.  What 


is  certain,  is  that  it  afterwards  augments  it  prodi- 
giously. It  is  then  impossible  that  approximations, 
which  our  organization  renders  inevitable,  should 
not  develope  in  us  this  natural  disposition  to  sympa- 
thy, fortify  it  by  exercise,  and  establish  amongst  us 
social  and  moral  relations.  Moreover,  we  are  also 
so  organized,  that  we  form  judgments  of  that  which 
we  experience,  of  that  which  we  feel,  of  that  which 
we  see,  in  a  word  of  all  which  affects  us ;  we  dis- 
tinguish the  parts,  circumstances,  causes  and  conse- 
quences thereof;  and  this  is  to  judge  of  it.  It  is  then 
impossible  that  we  should  not  soon  be  aware  of  the 
utility  we  may  derive  from  the  succour  of  our  fellow 
beings,  from  their  assistance  in  our  wants,  from  the 
concurrence  of  their  will,  and  of  their  force  wiHh  ours, 
a  new  reason  why  approximations,  fortuitous  at  first, 
should  become  durable  and  permanent  between  us ; 
this  also  is  what  takes  place  always,  and  every  where. 
It  is  this  also  which  always,  and  every  where,  pro- 
duces the  admirable  and  wise  invention  of  a  lan- 
guage more  or  less  perfect,  but  always  as  appears, 
more  circumstantial,  and  more  capable  of  detailed 
explanations,  than  that  of  any  other  animal.  It  is 
then  the  social  state,  which  is  our  natural  state,  and 
that  with  which  we  ought  alone  to  occupy  ourselves. 
I  will  not  however  in  this  place  consider  society 
under  a  moral  relation.  I  will  not  examine  how  it 
developes,  multiplies,  and  complicates,  all  our  pas- 
sions and  affections ;  nor  what  are  the  numerous  du- 
ties it  imposes  on  us,  nor  whence  arises  for  us  the 
fundamental  obligation  of  respecting  the  conventions 
on  which  it  rests,  and  without  which  it  could  not 
subsist.  These  are  researches  which  will  be  the 


6 

object  of  the  second  part  of  this  treatise.  In  this  I 
shall  consider  the  social  state  only  under  its  econo- 
mical relation,  that  is  to  say  relatively  to  our  most 
direct  wants,  and  to  the  means  we  have  of  satisfying 
them.  It  is  that  which  may  lead  us  surely  to  esti- 
mate the  value  and  utility  of  all  our  actions,  to  judge 
of  their  merits  by  their  consequences,  and  conse- 
quently of  the  merit  of  those  sentiments  which  deter- 
mine us  to  one  action  rather  than  another. 

Now  what  is  society  viewed  under  this  aspect  ?  I 
do  not  fear  to  announce  it.  Society  is  purely  and 
solely  a  continual  series  of  exchanges.  It  is  never 
any  thing  else,  in  any  epoch  of  its  duration,  from  its 
commencement  the  most  unformed,  to  its  greatest 
perfection.  And  this  is  the  greatest  eulogy  we  can 
give  to  it,  for  exchange  is  an  admirable  transaction,  in 
which  the  two  contracting  parties  always  both  gain  ; 
consequently  society  is  an  uninterrupted  succession 
of  advantages,  unceasingly  renewed  for  all  its  mem- 
bers. This  demands  an  explanation. 

First,  society  is  nothing  but  a  succession  of  ex- 
changes. In  effect,  let  us  begin  with  the  first  con- 
ventions on  which  it  is  founded.  Every  man,  before 
entering  into  the  state  of  society,  has  as  we  have  seen 
all  rights  and  no  duty,  not  even  that  of  not  hurting 
others ;  and  others  the  same  in  respect  to  him.  It 
is  evident  they  could  not  live  together,  if  by  a  con- 
vention formal  or  tacit  they  did  not  promise  each 
other,  reciprocally,  surety.  Well !  this  convention 
is  a  real  exchange ;  every  one  renounces  a  certain 
manner  of  employing  his  force,  and  receives  in  return 
the  same  sacrifice  on  the  part  of  all  the  others.  Se- 
curity once  established  by  this  mean,  men  have  a 


multitude  of  mutual  relations  which  all  arrange  them- 
selves under  one  of  the  three  following  classes  :  they 
consist  either  in  rendering  a  service  to  receive  a  sal- 
ary,  or  in  bartering  some  article  of  merchandize 
against  another,  or  in  executing  some  work  in  com- 
mon. In  the  two  firjst  cases  the  exchange  is  mani- 
fest. In  the  third  it  is  not  less  real;  for  when  seve- 
ral men  unite,  to  labour  in  common,  each  makes  a 
sacrifice  to  the  others  of  what  he  could  have  done 
during  the  same  time  for  his  own  particular  utility; 
and  he  receives,  for  an  equivalent,  his  part  of  the 
common  utility  resulting  from  the  common  labour. 
He  exchanges  one  manner  of  occupying  himself 
against  another,  which  becomes  more  advantageous 
to  him  than  the  other  would  have  been.  It  is  true 
then  that  society  consists  only  in  a  continual  succes- 
sion of  exchanges. 

I  do  not  pretend  to  say  that  men  never  render  gra- 
tuitous services.  Far  from  me  be  the  idea  of  deny, 
ing  benevolence,  or  of  banishing  it  from  their  hearts ; 
but  I  say  it  is  not  on  this  that  all  the  progress  of 
society  reposes,  and  even  that  the  happy  consequen- 
ces of  this  amiable  virtue  are  much  more  important 
under  a  moral  relation^*  of  which  we  are  not  at  this 
time  speaking,  than  under  the  economical  relation 
which  now  occupies  us.  I  add  that  if  we  urge  the 
sense  of  the  word  exchange,  and  if  we  wish,  as  we 
ought,  to  take  it  in  all  the  extent  of  its  signification, 
we  may  say  with  justice  that  a  benefit  is  still  an 
exchange,  in  which  one  sacrifices  a  portion  of  one's 
property,  or  of  one's  time,  to  procure  a  moral  plea- 

*  In  developing  and  exciting  sympathy. 

13 


8 

sure,  very  lively  and  very  sweet,  that  of  obliging,  or 
to  exempt  oneself  from  a  pain  very  afflicting,  the 
sight  of  suffering ;  exactly  as  we  employ  a  sum  of 
money  to  procure  an  artificial  fire  work,  which  di- 
verts, or  to  free  ourselves  from  something  which  in- 
commodes us. 

It  is  equally  true  that  an  exchange  is  a  transac- 
tion in  which  the  two  contracting  parties  both  gain. 
Whenever  I  make  an  exchange  freely,  and  without 
constraint,  it  is  because  I  desire  the  thing  I  receive 
more  than  that  I  give  ;  and,  on  the  contrary,  he  with 
whom  I  bargain  desires  what  I  offer  more  than  that 
which  he  renders  me.  When  I  give  my  labour  for 
wages  it  is  because  I  esteem  the  wages  more  than 
what  I  should  have  been  able  to  produce  by  labour- 
ing for  myself;  and  he  who  pays  me  prizes  more  the 
services  I  render  him  than  what  he  gives  me  in  re- 
turn. When  I  give  a  measure  of  wheat  for  a  measure 
of  wine,  it  is  because  1  have  a  superabundance  of 
food  and  nothing  to  drink,  and  he  with  whom  I  treat 
is  in  the  contrary  case.  When  several  of  us  agree  to 
execute  any  labour  whatsoever  in  common,  whether 
to  defend  ourselves  against  an  enemy,  to  destroy 
noxious  animals,  to  preserve  ourselves  from  the  ra- 
vages of  the  sea,  of  an  inundation,  of  a  contagion, 
or  even  to  make  a  bridge  or  a  road,  it  is  because 
each  of  us  prefers  the  particular  utility  which  will 
result  to  him  from  it,  to  what  he  would  have  been 
able  to  do  for  himself  during  the  same  time.  We 
are  all  satisfied  in  all  these  species  of  exchanges, 
every  one  finds  his  advantage  in  the  arrangement 
proposed. 


In  truth  it  is  possible  that,  in  an  exchange,  one 
of  the  contractors,  or  even  both,  may  have  been 
wrong  to  desire  the  bargain  which  they  conclude.- 
It  is  possible  they  may  give  a  thing,  which  they 
will  soon  regret,  for  a  thing  which  they  will  soon 
cease  to  value.  It  is  possible,  also,  that  one  of  the 
two  may  not  have  obtained  for  that  which  he  sacri- 
fices as  much  as  he  might  have  asked,  so  that  he 
will  suffer  a  relative  loss  while  the  other  makes  &  i 
exaggerated  gain.  But  these  are  particular  c- 
which  do  not  belong  to  the  nature  of  the  transaction. 
And  it  is  not  less  true  that  it  is  the  essence  of  free 
exchange  to  be  advantageous  to  both  parties ;  and 
that  the  true  utility  of  society  is  to  render  possible 
amongst  us  a  multitude  of  similar  arrangements. 

It  is  this  innumerable  crowd  of  small  particular 
advantages,  unceasingly  arising,  which  composes 
the  general  good,  and  which  produces  at  length  the 
wonders  of  perfected  society,  and  the  immense  dif- 
ference we  see  between  it  and  a  society  imperfect  or 
almost  null,  such  as  exists  amongst  savages.  It  is 
not  improper  to  direct  our  attention  for  some  time  to 
this  picture,  which  does  not  sufficiently  strike  us  be- 
cause we  are  too  much  accustomed  to  it. 

What  is  it  in  effect  which  a  country  ancient- 
ly civilized  offers  to  our  contemplation  ?  The 
fields  are  cleared  and  cleaned,  freed  from  the  large 
vegetables  which  originally  covered  them,  rid  of 
noxious  plants  and  animals,  and  in  every  respect 
prepared  to  receive  the  annual  cares  of  the  cultiva- 
tor. The  marshes  are  drained.  The  stagnant  wa- 
ters which  occupied  it  have  ceased  to  fill  the  air  with 
pestilential  vapours.  Issues  have  (been  opened  for 


id 

them,  or  their  extent  has  been  circumscribed ;  and 
the  ,ands  which  they  infected  have  become  abun- 
dant pastures,  or  useful  reservoirs.  The  asperities 
of  the  mountains  have  been  levelled  ;  their  bases 
have  been  appropriated  to  the  wants  of  culture ; 
their  parts  least  accessible,  even  to  the  regions  of 
eternal  snow,  have  been  destined  to  the  nourishment 
<>f  numerous  flocks.  The  forests  which  have  been 
permitted  to  remain  have  not  continued  impenetra- 
fcle  :  The  wild  beasts  which  retired  to  them  have 
been  pursued  and  almost  destroyed ;  the  wood 
which  they  produce  has  been  withdrawn  and  pre- 
served, the  cutting  them  has  even  been  subjected 
to  periods  the  most  favourable  for  their  reproduc- 
tion ;  and  the  care  bestowed  on  them  almost  every 
where  is  equivalent  to  a  species  of  culture,  and 
has  even  been  sometimes  extended  to  a  most  diligent 
culture.  Tbe  running  waters  which  traverse  all 
these  lands  have,  likewise,  not  remained  in  their 
primitive  state  :  The  great  rivers,  have  been  clear- 
ed of  all  the  obstacles  which  obstructed  their 
course ;  they  have  been  confined  by  dikes  and 
quays,  when  this  has  been  necessary ;  and  their 
banks  have  been  disposed  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
form  commodious  ports  in  convenient  situations. — 
The  course  of  streams  less  considerable  has  been 
restrained  for  working  mills  and  other  machines,  or 
diverted  to  irrigate  declivities  which  needed  it,  and  to 
jren'l°r  them  productive.  On  the  whole  surface  of 
the  land  habitations  have  been  constructed  from  dis- 
tance to  distance,  in  favourable  positions,  for  the 
use  of  those  who  cultivate  the  ground  and  attend  to 
its  produce.  These  habitations  have  been  sur- 


11 

rounded  with  enclosures  and  plantations,  that  ren- 
der them  more  agreeable  and  more  useful.  Roads 
have  been  made  to  go  to  them  and  to  take  away  the 
produce  of  the  earth.  In  points  where  several  dif- 
ferent interests  have  concentrated,  and  where  other 
men  have  become  sufficiently  necessary  to  the  ser- 
vice of  the  cultivators,  to  be  able  to  subsist  on  the 
wages  of  their  labour,  habitations  have  been  multi- 
plied and  made  contiguous,  and  have  formed  vil- 
lages and  small  towns.  On  the  banks  of  large 
rivers,  and  on  the  shores  of  the  sea,  in  points  in 
which  the  interests  of  several  of  these  towns  have 
coincided,  large  cities  have  been  built ;  which  have 
themselves  in  time  given  birth  to  a  still  greater  one, 
which  has  become  their  capital  and  their  common 
centre,  because  it  has  been  found  the  most  favoura- 
bly situated  to  unite  all  the  others,  and  to  be  provi- 
sioned and  defended  by  them.  Finally,  all  these 
towns  communicate  with  each  other,  with  the  neigh- 
bouring seas,  and  with  foreign  countries,  by  means 
of  bridges,  causeways,  canals,  in  which  the  whole 
of  human  industry  is  displayed.  Such  are  the  ob- 
jects which  strike  us  at  the  first  aspect  of  a  country 
where  men  have  exercised  all  their  power,  and  have 
appropriated  it  to  themselves  for  a  long  time. 

If  we  penetrate  the  interior  of  their  habitations 
we  there  find  an  immense  number  of  useful  animals, 
raised,  nourished,  made  obsequious,  by  man, — mul- 
tiplied by  him  to  an  inconceivable  point ;  a  prodi- 
gious quantity  of  necessaries  of  every  species,  com- 
modities, furniture,  utensils,  instruments,  clothing, 
articles,  raw  or  manufactured,  metals,  necessary  or 
precious  ;  finally,  whatever  may  sooner  or  later  con- 


tribute  to  the  satisfaction  of  our  wants.  We  admire 
there  above  all  things,  a  population  really  astonish- 
ing, all  the  individuals  of  which  have  the  use  of  a 
perfected  language,  have  a  reason  developed  to  a 
certain  point,  manners  sufficiently  softened,  and  an 
industry  sufficiently  intelligent,  to  live  in  such  great 
numbers  near  to  one  another,  and  amongst  whom  in 
general  the  poorest  are  succoured,  the  weakest  de- 
fended. We  remark,  with  still  more  surprise,  that 
many  of  these  men  have  attained  a  degree  of  know- 
ledge very  difficult  to  be  acquired,  that  they  possess 
an  infinity  of  agreeable  or  useful  arts,  that  they  are 
acquainted  with  many  of  the  laws  of  nature,  of 
which  they  know  to  calculate  the  effects,  and  turn 
them  to  their  advantage,  that  they  have  even  had  a 
glimpse  of  the  most  difficult  of  all  sciences,  since 
they  are  able  to  distinguish,  at  least  in  part,  the  true 
interests  of  the  species  in  general,  and  in  particular 
those  of  their  society,  and  its  members  ;  that  in  con- 
sequence they  have  conceived  laws  often  just,  insti- 
tutions tolerably  wise,  and  created  a  number  of  es- 
tablishments proper  for  spreading  and  still  increas- 
ing instruction  and  intelligence  ;  and  finally,  that  not 
content  with  having  thus  insured  interior  prosperity 
they  have  explored  the  rest  of  the  earth,  established 
relations  with  foreign  nations,  and  provided  for 
their  security  from  without. 

What  an  immense  accumulation  of  means  of  well 
being !  What  prodigious  results  from  that  part  of 
the  labours  of  our  predecessors,  which  has  not  been 
immediately  necessary  to  the  support  of  their  exis- 
tence, and  which  has  not  been  annihilated  with 
them !  The  imagination  even  is  astonished ;  and 


13 

the  more  so  the  more  it  reflects  on  it,  for  we  should 
consider  that  many  of  these  works  are  little  durable, 
that  the  most  solid  have  been  many  times  renewed 
in  the  course  of  ages,  and  that  there  is  scarcely  one 
which  does  not  require  continual  care  and  mainte- 
nance for  its  preservation.      We  must  observe  that 
of  these  wonders  that  which  strikes  our  attention  is 
not  the  most  astonishing ;  it  is,  as  we  say,  the  ma- 
terial part.     But  the  intellectual  part,  if  we  may  so 
express  ourselves,  is  still  more  surprising.      It  has 
always  been  much  more  difficult  to  learn,  and  to  dis- 
cover, than  to  act  in  consequence  of  what  we  know. 
The  first  steps,  especially  in  the  career  of  invention, 
are  of  extreme  difficulty.     The  labour  which  man 
has  been  obliged  to  perform  on  his  own  intellectual 
faculties,  the  immensity  of  the  researches  to  which 
he  has  been  forced  to  have  recourse,  that  of  the  ob- 
servations he  has  been  obliged  to  collect,  have  cost 
him  much  more  time  and  pains  than  all  the  works 
he  has  been  able  to  execute  in  consequence  of  the 
progress  of  his  understanding.     Finally,  we  must 
remark  that  the  efforts  of  men,  for  the  amelioration 
of  their  lot,  have  never  been  nearly  as  well  directed 
as  they  might  have  been,  that  always  a  great  por- 
tion of  the  human  power  has  been  employed  in  hin- 
dering the  progress  of  the  other,  that  this  progress 
has  been  troubled  and  interrupted  by  all  the  great 
disorders  of  nature  and  of  society ;  and  that  many 
times  perhaps  all  has  been  lost  and  destroyed, 
even  the  knowledge  acquired,   even  the  capacity 
of  re-commencing  that  which  had   been   already 
done.     These  latter  considerations  might  become 
discouraging.     But  we  shall  see  elsewhere  by  how 


many  reasons  we  ought  to  be  assured  against 
the  fear  of  such  misfortunes  in  future.  We  will 
also  examine  to  what  point  the  progress  of  the 
species,  taken  in  mass,  augments  the  happiness  of 
individuals,  a  condition  necessary  to  enable  us  to 
rejoice  at  it.  But  at  this  moment  let  it  suffice  to 
have  shown  the  prodigious  power  which  men  ac- 
quire when  united  ;  while  separated  they  can  with 
difficulty  sustain  their  miserable  existence.  Smith, 
if  I  am  not  mistaken,  is  the  first  who  has  remarked 
that  man  alone  makes  exchanges,  properly  speak- 
ing. See  his  admirable  chapter,  4th  of  the  1st 
book  of  his  treatise  on  the  wealth  of  nations.  I  re- 
gret that  in  remarking  this  fact  he  has  not  sought  its 
cause  with  more  curiosity.  It  was  not  for  the  au- 
thor of  the  theory  of  moral  sentiments  to  regard  as 
useless  a  scrutiny  of  the  operations  of  our  under- 
standing. His  success  and  his  faults  ought  to  have 
contributed  equally  to  make  him  think  the  contrary. 
Notwithstanding  this  negligence  his  assertion  is  not 
the  less  true.  We  clearly  see  certain  animals  exe- 
cute labours  which  concur  to  a  common  end,  arid 
which  to  a  certain  point  appear  to  have  been  con- 
certed; or  fight  for  the  possession  of  what  they  desire, 
or  supplicate  to  obtain  it ;  but  nothing  announces 
that  they  really  make  formal  exchanges.  The  rea- 
son, I  think,  is  that  they  have  not  a  language  suffi- 
ciently developed  to  enable  them  to  make  express 
conventions ;  and  this,  I  think,  proceeds  (as  I  have 
explained  in  my  second  volume,  article  of  interjec- 
tions,— and  in  my  first,  on  the  subject  of  signs,)  from 
their  being  incapable  of  sufficiently  decomposing 
their  ideas,  to  generalise,  to  abstract,  and  to  express 


15 

them  separately  in  detail,  and  in  the  form  of  a  pro- 
position ;  whence  it  happens  that  those  of  which  they 
are  susceptible,  are  all  particular,  confused  with 
their  attributes,  and  manifest  themselves  in  mass  by 
interjections,  which  can  explain  nothing  explicitly. 
Man,  on  the  contrary,  who  has  the  intellectual 
means  which  are  wanting  to  them  is  naturally  led 
to  avail  himself  of  them,  to  make  conventions  with 
his  fellow  beings.  They  make  no  exchanges,  and 
he  does.  Accordingly  he  alone  has  a  real  society; 
for  commerce  is  the  whole  of  society,  as  labour  is 
the  whole  of  riches. 

"We  can  scarcely  conceive  at  first  that  the  great 
effects,  which  we  have  just  described,  have  no  other 
cause  than  the  sole  reciprocity  of  services  and  the 
multiplicity  of  exchanges.  However  this  continual 
succession  of  exchanges  has  three  very  remarka- 
ble advantages. 

First,  the  labour  of  several  men  united  is  more 
productive,  than  that  of  the  same  men  acting  sepa- 
rately. Is  there  a  question  of  defence?  Ten  men 
will  easily  resist  an  enemy,  who  would  have  de- 
stroyed them  all  in  attacking  one  after  another.  Is 
a  burden  to  be  removed?  That  of  which  the 
weight  would  have  opposed  an  invincible  resistance 
to  the  efforts  of  a  single  individual,  yields  immedi- 
ately to  those  of  several  acting  together.  Is  some 
complicated  work  to  be  executed  ?  Several  things 
are  to  be  done  simultaneously.  One  does  one  while 
another  does  another,  and  all  contribute  to  effect 
what  a  single  man  could  not  have  produced.  One 
rows  while  another  steers,  and  a  third  casts  the  net 
i* 


16 

or  harpoons  the  fish ;  and  thus  they  attain  a  success 
impossible  without  this  concurrence. 

Secondly,  our  knowlege  is  our  most  precious  ac- 
quisition, since  it  is  this  that  directs  the  employ- 
ment of  our  force,  and  renders  it  more  fruitful,  in 
proportion  to  its  greater  soundness  and  extent. — 
Now  no  man  is  in  a  situation  to  see  every  thing, 
and  it  is  much  more  easy  to  learn  than  to  invent. — 
But  when  several  men  communicate  together,  that 
which  one  has  observed  is  soon  known  to  all  the 
others,  and  it  is  sufficient  amongst  them  that  one  is 
found  who  is  very  ingenious,  in  order  that  precious 
discoveries  should  promptly  become  the  property  of 
all.  Intelligence  then  will  increase  inuch  more  ra- 
pidly, than  in  a  state  of  insulation,  without  calculat- 
ing that  it  may  be  preserved,  and  consequently  ac- 
cumulated from  generation  to  generation  ;  and  still 
without  counting,  what  is  clearly  proved  by  the  stu- 
dy of  our  understanding,  that  the  invention  and  em- 
ployment of  language  and  its  signs,  which  would 
not  take  place  without  society,  furnish  our  minds 
with  many  new  means  of  combination  and  action. 

Thirdly,  and  this  still  merits  attention  :  when 
several  men  labour  reciprocally  for  one  another 
every  one  can  devote  himself  exclusively  to  the  oc- 
cupation for  which  he  is  fittest,  whether  from  his 
natural  dispositions  or  from  fortuitous  circumstan- 
ces ;  and  thus  he  will  succeed  better.  The  hunter, 
the  fisherman,  the  shepherd,  the  labourer,  the  arti- 
san,— doing  each  a  single  thing — will  become  more 
skilful,  will  lose  less  time,  and  have  more  success. 
This  is  what  is  called  the  division  of  labour,  which 


17 

in  civilised  society  is  sometimes  carried  to  an 
inconceivable  point,  and  always  with  advantage. — 
The  writers  on  economics  have  all  attached  an  ex- 
treme importance  to  the  division  of  labour ;  and  they 
have  made  much  noise  with  this  observation,  which 
is  not  ancient ;  they  have  been  right.  Yet  this  third 
advantage  of  society  is  far  from  having  an  interest 
equally  eminent  with  the  two  former,  the  concur- 
rence of  force  and  the  communication  of  knowledge. 
In  all  cases,  that  which  is  most  difficult  is  to  assign 
to  things  their  true  value ;  for  this,  we  must  know 
them  perfectly. 

Concurrence  of  force,  increase  and  preservation 
of  knowledge,  and  division  of  labour, — these  are 
the  three  great  benefits  of  society.  They  cause 
themselves  to  be  felt  from  the  first  by  men  the  most 
rude  ;  but  they  augment  in  an  incalculable  ratio,  in 
proportion  as  they  are  perfected, — and  every  degree 
of  amelioration,  in  the  social  order,  adds  still  to  the 
possibility  of  increasing  and  better  using  them. — 
The  energy  of  these  three  causes  of  prosperity  will 
show  itself  still  more  evidently,  when  we  shall 
have  seen  more  in  detail  the  manner  in  which 
our  riches  are  formed. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Of  Production,  or  of  the  formation  of  our  Riches. 

It  is  so  true  that  we  cannot  reason  justly  while 
the  sense  of  words  is  not  well  determined,  that  it  is 
very  important  in  political  economy,  to  know  what 
we  ought  to  understand  by  the  word  production,  in 
the  language  of  this  science.  This  question,  which 
in  itself  is  not  without  difficulty,  has  been  still  much 
perplexed  by  the  spirit  of  system  and  prejudice. — 
It  has  been  treated  of  by  many  able  men,  at  the 
head  of  whom  we  should  place  Turgot  and  Smith. 
But,  in  my  opinion,  no  one  has  thrown  so  much 
light  on  it  as  Mr.  Say,  the  author  of  the  best  book 
I  know  on  these  matters,  although  he  leaves  still 
something  to  be  desired. 

All  the  operations  of  nature  and  of  art  resolve 
into  transmutations,  into  changes,  of  form  and  of 
place. 

Not  only  we  never  create  any  thing,  but  it  is  even 
impossible  for  us  to  conceive  what  it  is  to  create,  if 
we  understand  by  this  word  to  make  something  of 
nothing ;  for  we  have  never  seen  any  being  what- 
soever arise  from  nothing,  nor  return  to  it.  Hence 
this  axiom,  admitted  by  all  antiquity,  "nothing 
comes  from  nothing,  or  returns  to  nothing."* — 

*  It  is  very  just.  I  shall  believe  in  the  possibility  of  a  creation, 
7/hen  any  body  shall  show  me  one,  or  even  an  annihilation. 


20 

What  then  do  we  do  by  our  labour,  by  our  action 
on  all  the  bodies  which  surround  us  ?  Never  any 
thing,  but  operate  in  these  beings  changes  of  form 
or  of  place,  which  render  them  proper  for  our  use, 
which  make  them  useful  to  the  satisfaction  of  our 
wants.  This  is  what  we  should  understand  by — 
to  produce  :  It  is  to  give  things  an  utility  which 
they  had  not.  .Whatever  be  our  labour,  if  no  uti- 
lity results  from  it  it  is  unfruitful.  If  any  results  it 
is  productive. 

It  seems  at  first,  and  many  likewise  believe  it, 
that  there  is  a  more  real  production  in  that  labour 
which  has  for  its  object  the  procurement  of  first  ma- 
terials, than  in  that  which  consists  in  fashioning  and 
transporting  them  ;  but  it  is  an  illusion.  When  I 
put  seed  in  contact  with  air,  water,  earth,  and  differ- 
ent manures,  so  that  from  the  combinations  of  these 
elements  results  wheat,  hemp,  or  tobacco,  there  is  no 
more  creation  operated,  than  when  I  take  the  grain 
of  this  wheat  to  convert  it  into  flour  and  bread  ,  the 
filaments  of  this  hemp  to  make  successively  thereof 
thread,  cloth,  and  habiliments ;  and  the  leaves 
of  this  tobacco  to  prepare  them  so  as  to  smoke, 
chew,  or  snuff  them.  In  both  cases  there  is  a  pro- 
duction  of  utility,  for  all  these  labours  are  equally 
necessary  to  accomplish  the  desired  end,  the  satis- 
faction of  some  of  our  wants. 

The  man  who  draws  fish  from  the  depths  of  the 
sea  is  no  more  a  creator  than  those  who  dry  and  salt 
them,  who  extract  the  oil,  the  eggs,  &c.  &c.  or 
transport  these  products  to  me.  It  is  the  same 
with  those  who  dig  in  mines,  who  convert  the  mi- 
neral into  metal  and  the  metal  into  utensils,  or  fur- 


niture,  and  who  carry  these  instruments  to  those 
who  want  them.  Each  adds  a  new  utility  to  the 
utility  already  produced,  consequently  each  is  equal- 
ly  a  producer.  All  equally  study  the  laws,  which 
govern  the  different  beings  to  turn  them  to  their  pro- 
fit ;  all  employ,  to  produce  the  desired  effect,  the 
chemical  and  mechanical  forces  of  nature.  What 
we  call  her  vegetative  force  is  not  of  another  nature, 
it  is  but  a  series  of  elective  attractions,  of  true  chy- 
mical  affinities  with  all  the  circumstances  of  which 
we  are  undoubtedly  not  acquainted,  but  yet  know 
how  to  favor  them  by  our  labours,  and  to  direct  these 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  render  them  useful. 

It  is  then  erroneously  that  they  have  made  agri- 
cultural industry  a  thing  essentially  different  from 
all  the  other  branches  of  human  industry,  and  in 
which  the  action  of  nature  intervenes  in  a  particular 
manner ;  accordingly  they  have  always  been  greatly 
embarrassed  to  know  precisely  what  they  should 
understand  by  agricultural  industry,  taken  in  this 
sense.  They  have  comprised  therein  fishing  and 
hunting.  But  why  not  likewise  comprehend  the 
industry  of  erratic  shepherds?  Is  there  so  great  a 
difference  between  raising  animals  to  nourish  our- 
selves, and  killing  or  taking  them  ready  raised  to 
nourish  ourselves  in  the  same  manner.  If  he  who 
extracts  salt  from  sea  water,  by  exposing  it  to  the 
action  of  the  rays  of  the  sun,  is  a  producer,  why 
should  not  he  who  extracts  the  same  salt  from  the 
water  of  a  fountain,  by  means  of  the  action  of  fire, 
and  that  of  the  wind,  in  buildings  of  graduation,  be 
a  producer  also  ?  And  yet  what  specific  difference 


is  there  between  his  manufacture,  and  all  those  1 
which  yield  other  chymical  products  ?  If  we  rank 
in  this  productive  class  him  who  extracts  minerals 
from  the  earth,  why  not  also  comprehend  him  who 
extracts  metals  from  these  minerals  ?  If  one  pro- 
duces the  mineral  the  other  produces  the  metal,  and 
where  shall  we  stop  in  the  different  transformations 
which  this  matter  undergoes,  'till  it  becomes  a  piece 
of  furniture  or  a  jewel? — at  what  point  of  these  sue- 
cessive  labours  can  we  say,  here  we  cease  to  pro- 
duce, and  do  nothing  but  fashion  ?  We  may  say 
as  much  of  those  who  seek  wood  in  forests,  or  turf 
in  bogs,  or  who  collect  on  the  shores  of  the  sea  or 
of  rivers  the  useful  things  which  the  waters  have 
deposited  there.  Are  they  agricolists,  fabricators, 
or  carriers  ?  And  if  they  are  all  these  at  the  same 
time,  why  are  they  more  producers  under  one  of 
these  denominations  than  under  the  two  others  ? — - 
Finally,  to  speak  only  of  culture,  properly  so  call- 
ed, I  demand  that  it  be  precisely  determined  who  is 
the  true  producer,  the  agricolist  by  excellence,  he 
who  sows  or  he  who  reaps  ;  he  who  ploughs,  or  he 
who  fences  ;  he  who  conveys  manure  into  the  fields, 
or  he  who  leads  the  flocks  to  fold  in  them?  For  my 
part  I  declare  that  they  all  appear  only  as  so  many 
different  workmen,  who  concur  in  the  same  fabrica- 
tion. I  stop  here,  because  one  might  propose  to  the 
partisans  of  the  opinion  I  combat  a  thousand  ques- 
tions, as  insoluble  as  these,  in  their  system.  When 
we  set  out  from  a  false  principle  difficulties  arise  in. 
crowds  :  perhaps  this  is  one  of  the  great  causes  of 
the  obscure,  embarrassed,  and  almost  mysterious, 


83 

language  which  we  remark  in  the  writings  of  the 
ancient  economists.  When  ideas  are  not  precise  it 
is  impossible  that  expressions  should  be  clear; 

The  truth  is  simply,  that  all  our  useful  labours 
are  productive,  and  that  those  relative  to  agricul- 
ture are  so  like  the  others,  in  the  same  manner  as 
the  others,  for  the  same  reason  as  the  others  ,  and 
have  in  this  nothing  particular.  A  farm  is  a  real 
manufactory ;  every  thing  is  operated  there  in  the 
same  way,  by  the  same  principles,  and  for  the  same 
causes.  A  field  is  a  real  utensil,  or,  if  you  please, 
a  store  of  first  materials,  which  any  one  may  take 
if  it  yet  belongs  to  nobody  ;  and  which  must  be 
bought,  rented,  or  borrowed,  if  it  has  already  an 
owner.  It  does  not  change  its  nature,  whether  I 
employ  it  in  the  raising  of  grain,  in  bleaching 
linen,  or  for  any  other  purpose.  In  every  case  it 
is  an  instrument  necessary  to  produce  a  desired 
effect,  as  a  furnace,  a  hammer,  or  a  vessel.  The 
only  difference  between  this  instrument  and  every 
other,  is  that  to  use  it,  as  it  cannot  be  removed,  we 
must  go  to  it,  instead  of  its  coming  to  us. 

Once  again,  agricultural  industry  is  a  branch  of 
manufacturing  industry,  which  has  no  specific  cha- 
racter which  separates  it  from  all  the  others. — 
Would  you  so  generalise  this  term  as  to  extend  it 
to  all  the  labours  which  have  for  their  object  the 
procurement  of  first  materials?  it  is  then  certain 
that  agricultural  industry  is  the  first  in  date  and  the 
most  necessary  of  all,  because  it  is  necessary  that  a 
thing  should  be  procured  before  it  can  be  applied  to 
use  ;  but  it  is  not  for  that  reason  exclusively  pro- 
ductive, for  most  of  its  productions  must  yet  be  fur- 


ther  wrought  before  they  become  useful  to  us  ;  and 
moreover  we  must  then  comprehend  in  agricultural 
industry,  not  only  that  of  hunters,  fishers,  shep- 
herds, miners,  &c.  but  also  that  of  the  rudest  sava- 
ges, and  even  that  of  all  those  beasts  which  live  on 
the  spontaneous  productions  of  the  earth,  since  these 
are  first  matters  which  these  creatures  procure  for 
themselves  ;  in  truth,  they  are  immediately  consum- 
ed, but  this  does  not  change  the  thesis.  Certainly 
these  are  singular  agricolists,  and  singular  pro- 
ducers. 

Will  it  be  insisted  that  agricultural  industry  shall 
be  restrained  to  agriculture,  properly  so  called  ? — 
then  it  is  not  the  first  in  chronological  order,  for 
fiien  are  fishers,  hunters,  shepherds,  and  mere  vaga- 
bonds, in  the  manner  of  brutes,  long  before  they  are 
agricultors.  It  is  not  even  the  only  industry  pro- 
ductive of  first  materials,  for  we  employ  many  for 
which  we  are  not  indebted  to  it.  Doubtless  it  is 
always  very  important,  and  is  the  principal  source 
of  our  subsistance,  if  not  of  our  riches  ;  but  it  can- 
not be  regarded  as  exclusively  productive. 

Let  us  conclude  that  all  useful  labour  is  really 
productive,  and  that  all  the  laborious  class  of  soci- 
ety merits  equally  the  name  of  productive.  The 
truly  sterile  class  is  that  of  the  idle,  who  do  nothing 
but  live,  nobly  as  it  is  termed,  on  the  products  of 
labours  executed  before  their  time,  whether  these 
products  are  realised  in  landed  estates  which  they 
lease,  that  is  to  say  which  they  hire  to  a  labourer, 
or  that  they  consist  in  money  or  effects  which  they 
lend  for  a  premium,  which  is  still  a  hireing. — 
These  are  the  true  drones  of  the  hive,  (fruges  con- 


sumere  nati)  unless  they  render  themselves  deserv- 
ing by  the  functions  which  they  discharge  or  the 
knowledge  which  they  diffuse ;  for  these  are,  also, 
useful  and  productive  labours,  although  not  of  an 
immediate  utility  in  relation  to  riches  ;— ^we  will 
speak  of  them  hereafter. 

As  to  the  laborious  class  and  that  immediately 
productive  of  our  riches,  as  its  action  on  all  the  be- 
ings  of  nature  always  reduces  itself  to  the  change 
of  form  or  of  place,  it  naturally  divides  itself  into 
two,  the  manufacturers  comprising  agriculturists, 
who  fabricate  and  fashion,  and  merchants  who 
transport,  for  this  is  the  real  utility  of  the  latter. 
If  they  did  nothing  but  buy  and  sell, — without 
transporting,  without  retailing,  without  facilitating 
any  thing, — they  would  be  nothing  more  than  incom- 
modious parasites,  gamesters,  stock-jobbers  ;  of  the 
one  and  the  other  of  whom  we  shall  shortly  speak ; 
and  we  shall  quickly  see  how  much  light  our  man- 
ner of  considering  things  throws  on  the  whole  pro- 
gress of  society.  We  must  now  explain  a  little 
more  fully  in  what  this  utility  consists,  our  only 
production  which  results  from  all  labour  well  un- 
derstood ;  and  to  see  how  it  is  appreciated,  and 
how  it  constitutes  the  value  of  whatsoever  we  call 
our  riches. 


CHAPTER  HI. 

Of  the  Measure  of  Utility  or  of  Values. 

This  word  utility  has  a  very  extensive  significa- 
tion, for  it  is  very  abstract,  or  rather  it  is  very  ab- 
stract because  it  is  abstracted  from  a  multitude  of 
different  significations.  In  effect  there  exist  utili- 
ties of  many  different  kinds.  There  are  some  real, 
some  illusory  ;  if  some  are  solid  some  are  very  fu- 
tile, and  we  often  stupidly  deceive  ourselves  in 
respect  to  them.  I  could  cite  many  examples,  but 
they  would  not  perhaps  be  to  the  taste  of  all  rea- 
ders. It  is  better  that  every  one  should  choose 
those  which  please  him.  In  general  we  may  say 
that  whatever  is  capable  of  procuring  any  advan- 
tage, even  a  frivolous  pleasure,  is  useful.  I  think 
this  is  the  real  value  of  this  word^  for  in  the  end  all 
we  desire  is  to  multiply  our  enjoyments  and  to  di- 
minish our  sufferings  5  and  certainly  the  sentiment 
of  pleasure  and  of  satisfaction  is  a  good.  All  goods 
are  even  nothing  more  than  that  differently  modi- 
fied. Whatever,  then,  procures  it  is  useful. 

If  it  is  not  easy  to  say  clearly  what  this  utility  is 
of  which  we  speak,  it  appears  still  much  more  diffi- 
cult to  determine  its  degrees  ;  for  the  measure  of  the 
utility  of  a  thing,  real  or  supposed,  is  the  vivacity 
with  which  it  is  generally  desired.  Now,  how  are 
we  to  fix  the  degrees  of  a  thing  so  inappreciable  as 


28 

the  vivacity  of  our  desires  ?  We  have,  however, 
a  very  sure  manner  of  arriving  at  it.  It  is  to  ob- 
serve the  sacrifices  to  which  these  desires  determine 
us.  If,  to  obtain  any  thing  whatsoever,  I  am  dis- 
posed to  give  three  measures  of  wheat  which  be- 
long to  me  ;  and  if,  to  obtain  another,  I  am  ready 
to  part  with  twelve  like  measures, — it  is  evident 
that  I  desire  the  last  four  times  more  than  the  other. 
In  like  manner,  if  I  give  a  man  a  salary  triple  of 
that  which  I  offer  another,  it  is  clear  that  I  value 
the  services  of  the  first  three  times  more  than  those 
of  the  second  5  or,  if  I  personally  do  not  value  them 
so  much,  it  is  however  the  value  generally  attached 
to  them,  so  that  I  could  not  procure  them  at  a 
smaller  price ;  and,  since,  in  fine,  I  make  this  sa- 
crifice freely,  it  is  a  proof  that  its  object  is  worth  it 
even  to  me. 

In  the  state  of  society  which  is  nothing  but  a  con- 
tinual succession  of  exchanges,  it  is  thus  that  the 
values  of  all  the  products  of  ouiyndustry  are  deter- 
mined. This  fixation,  without  doubt,  is  not  always 
founded  on  very  good  reasons  ;  we  are  often  very 
dear  appreciates  of  the  real  merit  of  things.  But, 
in  fine,  in  relation  to  riches,  their  value  is  not  the 
less  that  which  the  general  opinion  assigns  to  them  5 
whence  we  see,  by  the  way,  that  the  greatest  pro- 
ducer is  he  who  performs  that  kind  of  labour  most 
dearly  paid  for.  It  imports  little  whether  this  la- 
bour should  be  a  branch  of  agricultural,  manufac- 
turing, or  commercial,  industry  ;  and,  from  hence, 
we  also  see  that,  of  two  nations,  that  which  has 
most  riches,  or  most  enjoyments,  is  that  whose 
workmen  are  the  most  laborious  and  the  most  skill- 


ful  in  every  kind,  or  who  devote  themselves  to  the 
kinds  of  labour  most  fruitful ;  in  a  word,  whose  la- 
bourers produce  the  most  value  in  the  same  time. 

This  brings  us  back  to  the  subject  of  which  we 
had  already  begun  to  treat  in  the  introduction,  (sec- 
tions three  and  four) :  our  only  original  property  is 
our  physical  and  intellectual  force.  The  employ- 
ment of  our  force,  our  labour,  is  our  only  primitive 
riches.  All  the  beings  existing  in  nature,  suscep- 
tible of  becoming  useful  to  us,  are  not  so  actually 
as  yet.  They  only  become  so  by  the  action  which 
we  exercise  on  them ;  by  the  labour,  small  or  great, 
simple  or  complicated,  which  we  execute  to  convert 
them  to  our  use.  They  have  no  value  for  us,  and 
with  us,  but  by  this  labour,  and  in  proportion  to  its 
success.  This  is  not  saying  that  if  they  have  alrea- 
dy become  the  property  of  any  one,  we  must  not 
begin  by  making  a  sacrifice  to  him,  in  order  to  ob- 
tain them,  before  disposing  of  them.  But  they 
have  not  become  the  property  of  any  one,  but  be- 
cause he  has  previously  applied  to  them  a  labour  of 
some  kind,  the  fruit  of  which  the  social  conventions 
assure  to  him.  Thus  this  sacrifice  itself  is  the  price 
of  some  labour  ;  and,  previous  to  any  labour,  these 
beings  had  no  actual  value,  and  that  which  they 
have  is  never  derived  but  from  some  employment 
of  our  force,  of  which  they  are  more  the  object. 

This  employment  of  our  force,  this  labour,  we 
have  also  seen  has  a  natural  and  necessary  value  ; 
without  which  it  would  never  have  had  an  artificial 
and  conventional  one.  This  necessary  value  is  the 
sum  of  the  indispensable  wants,  the  satisfaction  of 
which  is  necessary  to  the  existence  of  him  who  exe. 


80 

cutes  this  labour,  during  the  time  he  is  executing  it, 
But  here,  where  we  speak  of  the  value  which  results 
from  the  free  transactions  of  society,  it  is  clearly  seen, 
that  we  have  in  view  the  conventional  and  market 
value;  that  which  general  opinion  attaches  to  things, 
erroneously  or  reasonably.  If  it  is  less  than  the 
wants  of  the  labourer,  he  must  devote  himself  to  some 
other  industry,  or  he  must  perish.  If  il  is  strictly 
equal  to  them  he  subsists  with  difficulty.  If  it  is 
greater  he  grows  rich,  provided  always  that  he  is 
economical.  In  every  case  this  conventional  and 
market  value  is  the  real  one,  in  relation  to  riches  ; 
it  is  the  true  measure  of  the  utility  of  the  produc- 
tion, since  it  fixes  its  price. 

However,  this  conventional  value,  this  market 
price,  is  not  solely  the  expression  of  the  estimation 
in  which  we  generally  hold  a  thing.  It  varies  ac- 
cording to  the  wants  and  means  of  the  producer  and 
consumer,  of  the  buyer  and  of  the  seller ;  for  the 
product  of  my  labour,  even  should  it  have  cost  me 
much  time  and  pains,  if  I  am  pressed  to  dispose  of 
it,  if  there  are  many  similar  to  be  sold,  or  if  there 
are  but  small  means  of  paying  for  it, — I  must  ne- 
cessarily part  with  it  for  a  low  price.  On  the  con- 
trary, if  the  buyers  are  numerous,  urgent,  rich,  I 
may  sell  very  dear  what  I  have  procured  very 
easily.*  It  is  therefore  on  different  circumstances, 
and  on  the  equilibrium  of  the  resistance  between 
sellers  and  buyers,  that  the  market  price  depends ; 

*  Merchants  know  well  that  to  prosper  there  is  no  other  mean, 
but  to  render  the  merchandise  agreeable,  and  to  be  within  reach  of 
the  rich?  Why  do  not  nations  think  the  same?  They  would 
rivalise  industry  only,  and  would  never  think  of  desiring  the  impo- 
verishment of  their  neighbours  ;— • they  would  be  happy. 


31 

but  it  i£  not  less  true,  that  it  is  the  measure  of  the 
value  of  things,  and  of  the  utility  of  the  labour 
which  produces  them. 

There  is,  however,  another  way  of  considering 
the  utility  of  labour,  but  that  is  less  relative  to  the 
individual  than  to  the  human  species  in  general.  I 
explain  myself  by  an  example.  Before  the  invention 
of  the  stocking  loom,  a  man,  or  a  woman,  by  knitting 
could  make  a  pair  of  stockings  in  a  given  time ;  and 
received  wages  proportionate  to  the  degree  of  inte- 
rest which  was  taken  in  the  procurement  of  the  pro- 
duct of  that  labour,  and  to  the  difficulty  of  this  parti- 
cular labour  comparatively  with  all  other  kinds. — 
Things  thus  regulated  the  stocking  loom  is  invented ; 
and,  I  suppose  that  by  means  of  this  machine,  the 
same  person,  without  more  trouble  or  more  know- 
ledge, can  execute  precisely  three  times  as  much 
work  as  before,  and  of  the  same  quality.  It  is  not 
doubtful  but  at  first  it  would  be  paid  three  times  high- 
er for  to  those  who  wear  stockings,  the  manner  in 
which  they  have  been  made  is  indifferent.  But  this 
machiae,  and  the  small  talents  necessary  for  working 
it,  will  quickly  multiply,  since  the  industry  of  those 
who  dedicate  themselves  to  this  labour  is  supposed 
neither  to  be  more  painful,  nor  more  difficult,  than 
the  industry  of  those  who  knit ;  it  is  certain  they 
will  not  have  greater  wages,  although  they  do  three 
times  more  work.*  Their  labour,  then,  will  not 
be  more  productive  for  them  ;  but  it  will  be  so  for 
society,  taken  in  mass, — for  there  will  be  three 

*  I  abstract  the  price  of  the  machine,  and  the  interest  it  ought  to 
yield. 

16 


32 

times  as  many  persons  supplied  with  stockings  for 
the  same  sum  ;  or  rather,  to  consider  only  the  fa- 
brication of  the  stockings,  every  one  can  have  now 
as  many  as  he  could  formerly  for  the  third  of  the 
money  it  then  required,  and  consequently  will  have 
two-thirds  remaining  to  supply  other  wants.  We 
may  say  as  much  of  him  who  bruised  corn  between 
two  stones  before  the  invention  of  mills,  with  respect 
to  the  miller,  who  does  not  perhaps  gain  more ;  but 
who  grinds  an  hundred  times  more,  and  better. — 
This  is  the  great  advantage  of  civilized  and  enlight- 
ened society :  every  one  finds  himself  better  pro- 
vided in  every  way,  with  fewer  sacrifices, — because 
the  labourers  produce  a  greater  mass  of  utility  in 
the  same  time. 

It  is  this  also,  by  the  by?  which  shows  the  error 
of  those  who,  to  judge  of  the  greater  or  less  degree 
of  ease  of  the  poor  classes  of  society  in  other  times, 
compare  only  the  price  of  a  day's  work  with  the 
price  of  grain  ;  and  who,  if  they  find  that  the  first 
has  less  increased  than  the  second,  conclude  that 
the  labourers  are  more  straitened  than  they  were. 
This  is  not  exact,  and  probably  not  true ;  for,  first, 
we  do  not  eat  grain  in  its  natural  state  ;  and  it  may 
happen  that  it  may  have  augmented  in  price,  while 
bread  has  not,  if  we  now  grind  and  bake  more  eco- 
nomically. Moreover,  although  bread  is  the  prin- 
cipal expense  of  the  poor,  he  has  also  other  wants. 
If  the  arts  have  made  progress,  he  may  be  better 
lodged,  better  clothed,  have  better  drink,  for  the 
same  price.  If  the  society  is  better  regulated,  he 
may  find  a  more  regular  employment  for  his  labour, 
and  be  more  certain  of  not  being  troubled  in  the 


33 

possession  of  that  which  he  has  gained.  In  fine,  it 
may  very  well  be,  that  for  the  same  sum  he  enjoys 
more,  or  at  least  suffers  less.  The  elements  of  this 
calculation  are  so  numerous,  that  it  is  very  difficult, 
and  perhaps  impossible,  to  make  it  directly.  We 
shall  see  in  the  sequel  other  means  of  deciding  this 
question,  but  at  this  moment  it  leads  us  from  the 
object  with  which  we  are  occupied.  Let  us  return. 
We  have  seen  that  the  sole  and  only  source  of 
all  our  enjoyments,  of  all  our  riches,  is  the  employ- 
ment of  our  force,  our  labour,  our  industry,  that 
the  true  production  of  this  industry  is  utility ;  that 
the  measure  of  this  utility  is  the  salary  it  obtains  5 
and  besides  that  the  quantity  of  utility  produced  is 
what  composes  the  sum  of  our  means  of  existence 
and  enjoyment.  Now  let  us  examine  the  two  great 
branches  of  this  industry,  the  change  of  form  and 
the  change  of  place,  the  fabrication  and  the  trans- 
portation, or  that  which  is  called  manufacturing  and 
commercial  industry. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Of  the  Change  of  Form,  or  of  manufacturing  In- 
dustry, comprising  Agriculture. 

Since  the  whole  of  society  is  but  a  continual  suc- 
cession of  exchanges,  we  are  all  more  or  less  com- 
mercial. In  like  manner,  since  the  result  of  all  our 
labours  is  never  but  the  production  of  utility,  and 
since  the  ultimate  effect  of  all  our  manufactures  is 
always  to  produce  utility,  we  are  all  producers  or 
manufacturers, — because  there  is  no  person  so  un- 
fortunate as  never  to  do  any  thing  useful.  But  by 
the  effect  of  social  combinations,  and  by  the  sepa- 
ration of  the  different  kinds  of  occupation  which  is 
its  consequence,  every  one  devotes  himself  to  a  par- 
ticular kind  of  industry.  That  which  has  for  its 
object  the  fashioning  and  modifying  all  the  beings 
which  surround  us,  to  fit  them  for  our  use,  we  call 
specifically  manufacturing  or  fabricating  industry  ; 
and,  for  reasons  before  given,  we  comprehend  in 
this  that  which  consists  in  extracting  the  first  mate- 
rials from  the  elements  which  contain  them,  that  is 
to  say  that  which  is  called  agricultural  industry. — 
Let  us  examine  the  processes,  and  manner  of  ope- 
ration, of  fabricating  industry  in  general. 

M.  Say  has  well  remarked,  that  in  every  kind  of 
industry  there  are  three  distinct  things  :  First,  to 
know  the  properties  of  the  bodies  wliich  we  employ. 


3(5 

and  the  laws  of  nature  which  govern  them ;  second- 
ly, to  avail  ourselves  of  this  knowledge  to  produce 
an  useful  effect ;  thirdly,  to  execute  the  labour  ne- 
cessary to  attain  this  object.  That  is  to  say  there 
is  in  every  thing,  as  he  expresses  it,  theory,  appli- 
cation, and  execution. 

Before  the  existence  of  society,  or  during  its  in- 
fancy, every  man  is  for  himself  the  fabricator  of 
"whatever  he  wants ;  and,  in  every  species  of  fabri- 
cation, he  is  obliged  to  fulfil  alone  the  three  func- 
tions of  which  we  have  just  spoken.  But  in  a  more 
advanced  state  of  society,  by  the  effect  of  the  happy 
possibility  of  exchanges,  not  only  every  one  devotes 
himself  exclusively  to  the  particular  industry  for 
which  he  has  the  most  advantages ;  but,  also,  in 
each  kind  of  industry,  the  three  functions  of  which 
we  are  speaking  are  separated.  Theory  is  the  part 
of  the  scientific,  application  that  of  the  undertaker, 
and  execution  that  of  the  workman. 

These  three  species  of  labourers  must  derive  a 
profit  from  the  pains  they  take,  for  a  man  is  born 
naked  and  destitute.  He  cannot  amass  'till  after 
he  has  gained  ;  and  before  having  amassed  he  has 
nothing,  on  which  to  subsist,  but  his  physical  and 
moral  faculties  ; — if  the  use  he  makes  of  them  pro- 
duces nothing  he  must  find  a  different  method  of 
employing  them,  or  he  will  perish.  Every  one, 
then,  of  the  labourers  of  whom  we  speak  must  find 
a  salary  in  the  profits  resulting  from  the  fabrication 
in  which  he  co-operates. 

But  all  have  more  or  less  need  of  advances,  be- 
fore  they  begin  to  receive  this  salary, — for  it  is  not 
in  an  instant,  and  without  preparation,  that  then 


37 

service  becomes  sufficiently  fruitful  to  merit  a  re- 
compence. 

The  man  of  science,  or  he  whom  at  this  moment 
we  consider  as  such,  before  he  can  have  discovered 
or  learned  truths  immediately  useful  and  applica- 
ble, has  had  need  of  long  studies.  He  has  had  to 
make  researches  and  experiments ;  he  has  needed 
books  and  machines ;  in  a  word,  he  has  been  ob- 
liged to  incur  charges  and  expenses,  before  deriv- 
ing any  advantage  from  them. 

The  undertaker  does  not  less  experience  the  ne- 
cessity of  some  preliminary  knowledge,  and  of  a 
preparatory  education,  more  or  less  extensive. — 
Moreover,  before  he  begins  to  fabricate,  he  must 
obtain  a  place,  an  establishment,  magazines,  ma- 
chines, first  materials,  and  also  the  means  of  pay- 
ing workmen  ?till  the  moment  of  the  first  returns. 
These  are  enormous  advances. 

Finally,  the  poor  workman  himself  has  not  cer- 
tainly great  funds — yet  there  is  scarcely  a  trade  in 
which  he  is  not  obliged  to  have  some  tools  of  his 
own.  He  has  always  his  clothes  and  his  small  col- 
lection of  moveables.  If  he  has  but  simply  lived 
'till  the  moment  in  which  his  labour  begins  to  be 
worth  his  bare  subsistence,  this  must  always  be  the 
fruit  of  some  former  labour,  that  is  to  say  of  some 
riches  already  acquired, — which  has  provided  for 
it.  Whether  it  be  the  economy  of  his  parents,  or 
some  public  establishment,  or  even  the  product  of 
alms,  which  has  furnished  the  expenses, — there 
are  always  advances  which  have  been  made  for 
him,  if  not  by  him  ;  and  they  could  not  have  been 
made  if  every  one  before  him  had  lived  from  day 


38 

to  day  exactly  as  brute  animals,  and  had  not  abso- 
lutely any  thing  remaining  from  the  produce  of  his 
labour. 

What,  then,  are  all  these  advances,  great  or 
small  ?  They  are  what  are  commonly  called  capi- 
tals, and  what  I  simply  name  economies.  They 
are  the  surplus  of  the  production  of  all  those  who 
have  gone  before  us,  beyond  their  consumption, — 
for  if  the  one  had  always  been  exactly  equal  to  the 
other  there  would  be  no  remainder,  not  even  where- 
with to  raise  children.  We  have  inherited  from 
our  ancestors  but  this  surplus  ;  and  it  is  this  sur- 
plus, long  accumulated  in  every  way,  always  in- 
creasing in  accelerated  progression,  which  makes 
all  the  difference  between  a  civilized  nation  and  a 
savage  horde, — a  difference,  the  picture  of  which 
we  have  before  sketched. 

The  economists  have  entered  into  many  details 
on  the  nature  and  employment  of  capitals.  They 
have  recognized  many  different  kinds.  They  have 
distinguished  capitals  productive  and  unproductive; 
capitals  fixed,  and  others  circulating,  moveable, 
and  immoveable,  permanent,  and  destructible.  I 
see  no  great  use  in  all  these  subdivisions.  Some 
are  very  contestable,  others  founded  on  very  varia- 
ble circumstances,  and  others  again  entirely  super- 
fluous. It  seems  sufficient  for  the  object  we  pro- 
pose  to  remark,  that  prior^economies  are  necessary 
to  the  commencement  of  every  industrious  enter- 
prise, even  of  small  extent ;  and  it  is  for  this  rea- 
son that  in  every  country  the  progress  of  industry 
is  at  first  so  slow, — for  it  is  at  the  commencement 
above  all  that  economies  are  difficult ; — how  can  it 


39 

but  be  difficult  to  make  any  accumulations,  when  a 
person  has  scarcely  any  thing  beyond  strict  ne- 
cessaries. 

However,  little  by  little,  with  the  assistance  of 
time  and  of  some  happy  circumstances,  capitals  are 
formed.  They  are  not  all  of  the  same  kind  ;  they 
are  not  all  equal ;  and  this  gives  birth  to  three 
classes  of  labourers,  who  co-operate  in  every  fabri- 
cation, each  raising  himself  to  that  to  which  he  has 
been  able  to  attain,  or  fixing  himself  at  that  which 
hejias  not  been  able  to  overpass.  It  is  easy  to  per- 
ceive that  this  is  the  source  of  a  great  diversity  in 
salaries.  The  man  of  science,  he  who  can  enlight- 
en the  labours  of  fabrication,  and  render  them  less 
expensive  and  more  fruitful,  will  necessarily  be 
sought  after  and  well  paid.  It  is  true  that  if  his 
knowledge  is  not  of  an  immediate  utility,  or  if  being 
useful  it  begins  to  diffuse  itself  and  to  become  com- 
mon, he  will  run  the  risk  of  seeing  himself  neglect- 
ed, and  even  without  employment ;  but  while  he  is 
wanted  his  salary  will  be  large. 

The  poor  workman,  who  has  nothing  but  his 
arms  to  offer,  has  not  this  hope  :  he  will  always  be 
reduced  to  the  smallest  price,  which  may  rise  a  little 
if  the  demand  for  labour  is  much  greater  than  that 
which  is  offered  ;  but  which  will  fall  even  below 
the  necessaries  of  life,  if  more  workmen  offer  them- 
selves than  can  be  employed.  It  is  in  these  cases 
they  perish  through  the  effect  of  their  distresses. 

These  two  kinds  of  co-operators  in  fabrication,  the 
man  of  science  and  the  workman,  will  always  be  in 
the  pay  of  the  undertaker.     Thus  decrees  the  na- 
ture of  things  ;  for  it  is  not  sufficient  to  know  how 
17 


40 

to  aid  an  enterprise  with  the  head  or  the  hands  : 
there  must,  ft; at  be  an  enterprize;  and  he  who  under - 
ta;tes  it,  is  necessarily  the  person  who  chooses,  em- 
ploys, and  pays  those  who  co-operate.  Now  who 
is  he  who  can  undertake  it  ?  It  is  the  man  who  has 
already  funds,  with  which  he  can  meet  the  first  ex- 
penses of  establishment  and  supplies,  and  pay  wa- 
ges till  the  moment  of  the  first  returns. 

What  will  be  the  measure  of  the  recompense  of 
this  man  ?  It  will  be  solely  the  quantity  of  utility 
which  he  will  have  produced  and  caused  to  be  pro- 
duced. Re  can  have  no  other.  If  having  pur- 
chased an  hundred  francs  worth  of  articles,  what- 
soever, and  having  expended  a  hundred  more  in 
changing  their  form,  it  happens  that  what  goes 
from  his  manufactory  appears  to  have  sufficient 
utility  to  induce  a  person  to  give  four  hundred  to 
procure  it,  he  has  giined  two  hundred  francs.  If 
lie  is  offered  only  two  hundred  for  it,  he  has  lost 
his  time  and  his  pains  ;  if  he  is  offered  but  one  hun- 
dred, he  has  lost  the  half  of  his  funds ;  all  these 
chances  are  possible.  He  is  subject  to  this  incerti- 
tude; which  cannot  affect  the  hireling,  who  always 
receives  the  price  agreed  on,  whatever  happens. 

It  is  commonly  said  that  the  profits  of  the  under- 
taker (improperly  called  salaries,  since  no  one  has 
promised  him  any  tiling,)  ought  to  represent  the 
price  of  his  labour,  the  interest  of  his  funds,  and 
indemnification  for  the  risks  he  has  run :  it  is  ne- 
cessary and  just  that  it  should  be  so.  I  agree  if  you 
please  that  this  is  just,  although  the  word  just  is 
here  mis  ippliod  ;  because  no  one  having  contracted 
an  obligation  with  this  undertaker,  to  furnish  him 


41 

with  these  profits,  there  is  no  injustice  committed  if 
he  does  not  receive  them.  I  agree  further  that  this 
is  necessary,  for  him  to  continue  his  enterprize,  and 
not  to  become  disgusted  with  his  profession.  But  I 
say  that  these  calculations  are  not  at  all  the  cause 
of  his  good  or  bad  success.  This  depends  solely 
on  the  quantity  of  utility  he  has  been  able  to  pro- 
duce, on  the  necessity  that  others  are  under  of  pro- 
curing it,  and  finally  on  the  means  they  have  of 
paying  him  for  it;  for  that  a  thing  should  be  de- 
manded it  is  necessary  it  should  be  desired  ;  and  to 
buy  it,  it  is  not  sufficient  to  have  the  desire  of  pos- 
sessing it,  we  must  also  have  another*  article  to  give 
in  return. 

In  this  simple  exposition,  you  already  find  all 
the  mechanism,  and  the  secret  springs  of  that  part 
of  production,  which  consists  in  fabrication.  You 
even  discover  the  germ  of  the  opposite  interests, 
which  are  established  between  the  undertaker  and 
those  on  wages  on  the  one  part,  and  between  the 
undertaker  and  the  consumers  on  the  other,  amongst 
those  on  wages,  between  themselves,  amongst  un- 
dertakers of  the  same  kind,  even  amongst  undertak- 
ers of  different  kinds,  since  it  is  amongst  all  these 
that  the  means  of  the  mass  of  consumers  are  more 
or  less  unequally  divided;  and  finally  amongst 
consumers  themselves,  since  it  is  also  amongst  all 
of  them,  that  the  enjoyment  of  all  the  utility  pro- 
duced is  divided.  You  perceive  that  the  hirelings 
wish  there  should  be  few  to  be  hired,  and  many 
undertakers,  and  the  undertakers  that  there  should 
be  few  undertakers,  particularly  in  the  same  line  as 
themselves,  but  many  hirelings  and  also  many  con- 


sumers;  and  that  the  consumers,  on  the  contrary, 
wish  for  many  undertakers  and  hirelings,  and  if 
possible  few  consumers,  for  every  one  fears  compe- 
tition in  his  own  way,  and  would  wish  to  be  alone 
in  order  to  be  master.  If  you  pursue  further  the 
complication  of  these  different  interests,  in  the  pro- 
gress of  society,  and  the  action  of  the  passions 
which  they  produce,  you  will  soon  see  all  these 
men  implore  the  assistance  of  force  in  favour  of  the 
idea  with  which  they  are  prepossessed;  or,  at 
least,  under  different  pretexts,  provoke  prohibitive 
laws,  to  constrain  those  who  obstruct  them  in  this 
universal  contention. 

If  there  be  a  class  which  does  not  follow  this  di- 
Tection,  it  will  be  that  of  the  consumers;  because 
all  the  world  being  consumers,  all  cannot  unite  to 
form  a  club,  and  to  demand  exceptions ;  for  it  is 
the  general  law,  or  rather  liberty,  which  is  their 
safe-guard.  Thus  it  is  precisely,  because  their  in- 
terest is  the  universal  interest,  that  it  has  no  spe- 
cial representatives,  or  ravenous  solicitors.  It  even 
happens  that  illusions  divide  them,  and  cause  them 
to  lose  sight  of  the  principal  object ;  and  that  they 
solicit  partially,  and  in  different  directions,  against 
their  real  interest ;  for  much  knowledge  is  requisite 
to  know  it  as  it  is  general ;  and  much  justice  to  res- 
pect it,  because  the  world  lives  on  preferences.  All 
those,  on  the  contrary,  who  have  a  particular  pre- 
dominating interest,  are  united  by  it ;  form  corpora- 
tions ;  Siave  active  agents ;  never  want  pretexts  to 
insist  for  prevalence  ;  and  abound  in  means,  if  they 
are  rich,  or  if  they  are  formidable,  as  are  the  poor  in 
a  time  of  troubles^  that  is  to  say  when  the  secret  of 


their  force  is  revealed  to  them,  and  they  are  excited 
to  abuse  it. 

At  this  moment  it  is  not  necessary  to  follow  so 
far  the  consequences  of  the  facts  which  we  have  es- 
tablished. Let  us  observe  only,  that  the  most  neces- 
sary labours  are  the  most  generally  demanded,  and 
the  most  constantly  employed ;  but,  also,  that  it  is 
in  the  nature  of  things,  that  they  should  always  be 
the  most  moderately  paid  for.  This  cannot  be 
otherwise.  In  effect,  the  things  which  are  neces- 
sary to  all  men,  are  of  an  universal  and  continual 
use.  But,  for  this  reason  alone,  many  occupy  them- 
selves constantly  in  their  fabrications,  and  have 
soon  learnt  to  produce  them,  by  well  known  pro- 
cesses, and  which  require  only  common  understand- 
ing ;  thus  they  have  necessarily  become  as  cheap 
as  possible.  Moreover  it  is  indispensable  they 
should  not  be  dear;  for  almost  their  whole  con- 
sumption is  always  made  by  people  who  have  but 
few  means,  inasmuch  as  the  poor  are  every  where 
the  most  numerous,  and  are  every  where  also  the 
greatest  consumers  of  necessary  things,  which  in- 
deed compose  almost  their  whole  expense.  If  then 
they  were  not  at  a  low  price  they  would  cease  to  be 
consumed,  and  the  poor  could  not  subsist.  It  is  on 
the  lowest  price  to  which  they  can  be  brought,  that 
the  lowest  price  of  wages  is  regulated ;  and  the 
workmen,  who  labour  in  their  fabrication,  are  neces- 
sarily comprised  in  this  latter  class  of  the  lowest 
wages. 

Remark  also,  that  there  is  nothing  in  what  we 
have  just  said  of  manufacturing  industry,  which  is 
not  as  applicable  to  agriculture  as  to  all  other  spe- 


ties  of  fabrication.  There  are,  in  like  manner,  in  ag- 
riculture, theory,  applied  tion^nd  execution;  and  we 
find  there  the  three  kinds  of  labourers,  relative  to 
these  three  objects.  Kut  what  applies  eminently 
to  agriculture,  is  the  general  truth  which  we  have 
established,  that  labours  the  most  necessary  are, 
from  this  circumstance  alone,  the  worst  paid.  In  ef-  ,. 
feet,  the  most  important  and  most  considerable  pro- 
ductions of  agriculture,  are  the  cereal  plants  with 
which  we  are  nourished.  Now  I  ask  to  what  price 
corn  would  rise,  if  all  those  employed  in  its  produc- 
tion, were  as  dearly  paid  as  those  who  labour  in  the 
arts  of  the  most  refined  luxury?  Certainly  the  poor 
workmen  of  all  the  common  trades,  could  not  attain 
it;  they  must  absolutely  die  of  hunger,  or  their 
wages  must  rise  to  a  level  with  those  of  agricultural 
workmen;  but  then  those  of  the  others  would  rise 
likewise  in  proportion,  since  they  are  more  sought 
after ;  thus  the  first  would  not  be  advanced.  They 
would  always  be  at  the  lowest  possible  rate  ;  such 
is  the  law  of  necessity. 

What  is  true  of  agricultural  workmen  compara- 
tively with  other  workmen,  is  true  of  agricultural 
undertakers  comparatively  with  other  undertakers. 
Their  processes  are  well  known.  It  requires  but  a 
middling  understanding  to  employ  them.  Results 
of  a  long  experience;  during  the  existence  of  which 
numerous  essays  have  been  made,  and,  moi'e  than 
is  commonly  believed,  they  are  in  general  well 
enough  adapted  to  the  localities  ;  and  there  are  few 
means  of  ameliorating  them  sufficiently,  sensibly  to 
augment  their  profits,  whatever  may  be  said  by  rash 
speculators  who  from  time  to  time  nearly  ruin  them- 


45 

selves.  Thence  it  is,  that,  without  extraordinary 
circumstances,*  the  profits  of  agricultural  under- 
takers are  very  small  in  proportion  to  their  funds, 
their  risks,  and  their  pains.  Moreover,  these  well 
known  and  very  simple  processes,  are  nevertheless 
very  embarrassing  in  practice ;  they  require  much 
care  and  time,  so  that  in  this  state,  one  man  can 
never  be  sufficient  for  the  employment  of  large 
funds.  He  could  not  for  example  direct  at  the  same 
time  five  or  six  farms  even  if  he  should  have  five 
or  six  times  five  or  six  thousand  francs  to  stock 
them;  and  yet  this  is  hut  a  moderate  sum,  in  com- 
parison with  certain  lines  of  commerce.  Thus  this 
man,  who  ca'nnot  make  great  profits  in  proportion  to 
his  funds,  is  at  the  same  time  unable  to  employ  con- 
siderable funds.  It  is  then  impossible  that  he 
should  ever  make  a  real  fortune.  This  is  the  rea- 
son why  there  always  are  and  ever  will  be  few 
capitals  employed  in  agriculture,  in  comparison 
with  the  quantity  of  those  which  exist  in  society. 
Let  us  prove,  this  truth  by  facts ;  they  will  show  us 
at  the  same  time  why  agricultural  operations  often 
take  different  forms,  which  have  not,  or  do  not  appear 
to  have  any  thing  analagous  in  the  other  arts.  It  is 

*  One  of  these  circumstances,  the  most  extraordinary,  is,  without 
contradiction,  the  discovery  of  the  advantages  of  the  propagation  of 
Spanish  sheep,  instead  of  those  of  the  country.  This  is  the  immortal 
glory  of  M.  D'Aubenton,  and  the  fruit  of  thirty  years  perseverance. 
Well!  What  has  happened  since  this  has  been  established?  Even 
before  the  cultivator  could  procure  these  animals,  and  before  he  well 
knew  the  manner  of  deriving  advantage  from  them,  he  gives  already 
a  much  higher  rent  for  lands  on  which  he  hoped  to  be  able  to  raise 
them  :  That  is  to  say,  a  part  of  the  profits  is  taken  from  him  in  ad- 
vance ;  the  remainder  will  not  fail  to  be  taken  from  him  at  the  next 
lease. 


46 

an  interesting  subject,  which  I  have  not  yet  seen 
well  explained  in  any  of  our  books  on  agriculture, 
or  of  economy. 

You  never  see,  or  at  least  very  rarely,  a  man 
having  funds,  activity,  and  a  desire  of  augmenting 
his  fortune,  employ  his  money  in  buying  a  large 
extent  of  land,  to  cultivate  it,  and  make  of  it  his 
profession  for  life.  If  he  buys  it,  it  is  to  sell  again ; 
or  to  find  resources  necessary  to  some  other  enter- 
prize  ;  or  to  take  from  it  a  cutting  of  wood  ;  or  for 
some  other  speculation,  more  or  less  transitory.  In 
a  word,  it  is  an  affair  of  commerce,  and  not  of  agri- 
culture. On  the  contrary,  you  often  see  a  man  pos- 
sessed of  a  good  landed  estate  sell  it,  to  employ  the 
price  in  some  enterprize,  or  to  procure  for  himself 
some  lucrative  situation.  It  is  because  culture  is 
not  really  the  road  to  fortune. 

Accordingly,  almost  all  the  rich  who  purchase 
lands,  if  they  are  in  business,  do  it  because  they 
have  greater  funds  than  they  can  employ  in  their 
speculations  ;  or  because  they  wish  to  place  a  part 
beyond  the  reach  of  hazard.  If  they  are  in  public 
stations,  or  if  they  do  nothing  but  live  at  their  ease, 
it  is  to  place  their  funds  in  a  solid  and  agreeable 
manner.  But  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  propose 
to  occupy  themselves  the  land  which  they  buy.  J3e 
it  pleasure  or  business,  they  always  have  something 
which  interests  them  more.  T-»ey  hope  never  to 
have  any  further  trouble  with  them,  tiian  to  rent 
them  to  undertakers  of  culture,  as  they  would  rent* 

*  It  will  be  matter  of  astonishment  to  hear  me  say  rent  money,  as 
we  say  rent  lands,  or  a  house;  but  I  am  more  justly  surprised,  that 
when  they  say  lend  money,  they  do  not  also  say  to  lend  land — for  it 


V 

the  money  which  has  served  to  purchase  them,  and 
receive  the  interest,  without  troubling  themselves 
whether  its  employment  has  produced  loss  or  pro. 
fit  to  the  borrower,  who  makes  use  of  it. 

It  is  perhaps  fortunate  that  the  rich  thus  pur- 
chase lands  to  rent  them ;  for  agriculture  being  a  la- 
borious  ami  little  profitable  profession,  those  who 
devote  themselves  to  it  have  generally  small  means, 
as  we  have  just  observed.  If  they  were  obliged  to 
begin  by  buying  the  land  they  wish  to  cultivate,  all 
their  funds  would  be  absorbed ;  there  would  nothing 
remain  for  the  other  advances  necessary  to  cul- 
ture, and  still  they  could  undertake  but  small  enter- 
prizes.  It  is  then  more  convenient  for  them  to  find 
lands  to  be  rented,  than  to  be  forced  to  buy  them; 
but  this  is  not  more  convenient  to  them  than  it  is 
convenient  to  other  undertakers,  and  to  themselves, 
to  find  money  to  borrow,  when  they  need  it  to  give 
a  greater  extent  to  their  enterprizes;  and  this  is 
only  advantageous  to  them  under  the  same  restric- 
tions, that  is  to  say  it  lessens  their  profits  and  ren- 
ders their  situation  more  precarious  ;  for  it  is  well 
known  that  a  merchant,  who  does  not  carry  on  at 
least  the  greater  part  of  his  business  on  his  own 
funds,  is  in  a  very  dangerous  situation,  and  rarely 
has  great  success.  However,  such  is  the  situation 
even  of  those  whom  we  call  great  farmers. 

is  the  same  thing.  The  truth  is,  we  ought  not  to  say  lend  but  in  cases 
of  gratuitous  loans. 

When  we  have  a  property  whatsoever,  there  are  but  six  ways  of 
using  it  To  preserve  or  destroy  it,  to  give  or  sell  it,  to  lend  or  rent 
it.  They  do  not  precisely  destroy  lands,  but  they  keep  them  or  ;ive 
them,  or  sell  them,  or  lend  them,  or  rent  them,  as  they  do  every  thing 
«lse.  There  is  the  same  difference  between  a  lending  and  renting,  as 
between  giving  and  selling. 
18 


48 

In  a  word,  proprietors  who  let  lands  are  lenders, 
and  nothing  more.  It  is  very  singular  that  we  have 
almost  always  confounded  and  identified  their  inte- 
rest with  that  of  agriculture,  to  which  it  is  as  foreign 
as  that  of  the  lenders  of  money  is  to  all  the  enter- 
prizes  undertaken  by  those  to  whom  they  lend.  We 
cannot  sufficiently  wonder  to  see  that  almost  all  men, 
and  particularly  agricolists,  speak  of  great  proprie- 
tors of  land  with  a  love  and  respect  truly  supersti- 
tious; regard  them  as  the  pillars  of  the  state,  the  soul 
of  society  ;*  the  foster  fathers  of  agriculture, — -while 
they  most  frequently  lavish  horror  and  contempt  on 
the  lenders  of  money,  who  perform  exactly  the  same 
office  as  the  others, f  A  rich  incumbent  who  hag 
just  let  a  farm  exorbitantly  high  considers  himself 
as  a  very  clever,  and  what  is  more,  as  a  very  useful 
man ;  he  has  not  the  least  doubt  of  his  scrupulous 
probity,  and  he  does  not  perceive  that  he  is  exactly 
the  same  thing  as  the  most  pinching  usurer,  whom 
he  condemns  without  hesitation,  and  without  pity. 
Perhaps  even  his  farmer,  whom  he  ruins,  does  not 
any  more  than  himself  see  this  perfect  similitude;  so 
much  are  men  the  dupes  of  words.  It  is  true  that  so 
long  as  they  are  so,  they  understand  things  badly  ; 
and,  reciprocally,  so  long  as  they  understand  badly 
the  things  of  which  they  speak,  they  but  imperfect- 
ly comprehend  the  words  which  they  use.  I  cannot 

•  If  it  is  in  considering  them  as  men  in  general,  enlightened  and 
independent,  it  is  just;  but  if  in  their  quality  of  proprietors  of  land, 
it  is  absurd. 

•\  The  lenders  ofiand  have  even  a  great  advantage  over  the  others, 
because  when  they  have  found  a  mean  of  obtaining  a  higher  rent, 
they  have  by  this  circumstance  augmented  their  capital :  land  is  sold 
according  to  its  rents.  This  does  not  happen  to  the  lenders  of  money. 


49 

help  returning  frequently  to  this  fact,  for  it  is  a  great 
inconvenience  to  just  reasoning  ;  which,  however, 
we  must  endeavour  to  attain  in  every  matter. 

However  it  be,  much  land  being  in  the  hands  of 
the  rich,  there  is  much  to  be  rented ;  and  this,  as  we 
have  said,  is  the  reason  why  there  may  be  a  great 
number  of  enterprizes  of  agriculture,  although  there 
is  not  a  proportionate  mass  of  funds  in  the  hands  of 
the  men  who  consecrate  themselves  to  this  state.  In 
time  these  rented  lands  arrange  and  distribute  them- 
selves  in  the  manner  the  most  favourable  to  the  con- 
veniencies  of  those  who  intend  to  work  them.  Hence 
arise  to  great  proprietors  different  kinds  of  rural 
work,  which  are  not  the  effect  of  caprice  or  of  haz- 
ard, as  is  believed  without  reflection,  but  which  have 
their  causes  in  the  nature  of  things,  as  we  shall  see. 

In  fertile  countries  the  fecundity  of  the  soil  does 
not  turn  directly  to  the  profit  of  him  who  cultivates 
it,  for  the  proprietor  does  not  fail  to  demand  a  rent 
as  much  higher  as  they  are  more  productive.  But 
this  land  yielding  a  great  deal,  the  quantity  which 
a  man  can  employ  furnishes  a  considerable  mass  of 
production.  Now  all  things  being  otherwise  equal, 
as  the  profits  of  every  undertaker  are  always  pro. 
portioned  to  the  extent  of  his  fabrication,  here  the 
profits  may  be  sufficiently  great  to  attract  the  atten- 
tion of  men  possessed  of  a  certain  degree  of  care  and 
capacity.  Once  again,  it  is  not  the  fecundity  of  the 
soil  which  has  enriched  and  enlightened  them  ; 
but  it  is  this  fecundity  which  attracts  them,  and 
prevents  them  from  transferring  their  means  to  other 
speculations.  These  men  wish  to  make  a  profi-  from 
all  their  means  5  they  would  not  be  satisfied  with  a 


50 

imall  work,  which  would  leave  useless  a  part  of  their 
funds  and  personal  activity,  and  would  yield  them, 
but  small  profits.  For  their  convenience  great  pro- 
perties  are  distributed  into  large  masses  of  land,  of 
commonly  from  three  to  five  hundred  acres,  with  a 
good  habitation  near  them.  They  desire  nothing 
else.  They  bring  the  gear,  teams,  cattle,  provisions, 
sufficient  to  enable  them  to  wait ;  they  do  not  fear 
being  long  without  receiving,  to  receive  yet  more  in 
the  end.  They  make  essays,  they  sometimes  dis- 
cover new  means  of  production,  or  of  sale.  In  a  word 
they  fabricate,  they  trade,  and  hold  their  rank 
amongst  the  undertakers  of  industry  These  are 
our  great  farmers,  and  this  our  great  culture.  Not- 
withstanding these  fine  names,  a  great  farm  is  yet 
without  doubt  a  sufficiently  small  manufactory;  but 
if  it  is  almost  the  minimum  of  fabricating  industry  in 
general,  it  is  the  maximum  of  agricultural  industry  in 
particular. 

When  the  soil  is  less  fertile,  this  industry  cannot 
raise  itself  to  this  point.  Put  the  same  number  of 
acres  in  a  farm,  and  the  productions  will  be  insuffi- 
cient. Put  therein  the  double,  and  one  man  will 
not  he  sufficient  by  himself  to  work  it;*  besides  the 
expenses  and  risks  augment  in  a  greater  proportion — 
the  enterprize  is  no  longer  worth  the  pains.  You 
cannot  then  find  the  same  kind  of  men  to  undertake 
it.  And  if  there  be  capitals  somewhat  considerable, 
.and  intelligence  in  those  cantons,  they  will  be  car- 

*  If  he  takes  it,  it  will  be  to  under-rent  and  divide  it.  Then  he 
will  be  a  parasite  being  a  speculator  and  not  a  cultivator.  This  is  don* 
by  the  principal  farmers  of  large  farms  where  they  are  let  on  half- 
stocks.  Their  object  is  traffic. 


01 

ried  elsewhere.    What  then  happens?  These  lands, 
which  already  yield  less,  the  proprietors  divide  into 
still  smaller  portions,  to  place  them  within  the  com- 
petence of  more  persons  of  those  of  slender  means, 
and  who  often  even  do  not  make  the  cultivation  of 
these  lands  their  sole  occupation.      It  is  in  these 
places  that  you  often  see  small  farms,  or  simply  hou- 
ses with  very  little  land,  or  even  lands  without  any 
buildings      Yet  these  grounds  are  rented.     Those 
who  take  them,  even  bring  to  them  the  instruments 
and  animals  indispensable.     In  sjiort  they  make  a 
profit  from  them,  hy  their  own  labour  ;  but  it  is  not 
to  be  expected  that  they  should  display  there  the 
same  physical  and  moral  means,  as  the  great  farmers 
of  whom  we  have  just  spoken.     They  are  generally 
small  rural  proprietors  who  are  found  in  these  pla- 
ces, who  join  this  work  to  their  former  occupations, 
and  are  contented  if  the  whole  together  furnishes 
them  with  the  means  of  living  and  rearing  a  family, 
without  pretending  much  to  augment  their  ease,  and 
without  the  possibility  of  it,  but  by  extraordinary 
chances.     This  is  what  many  writers  call  small  cul- 
ture,  in  opposition  to  that  of  which  we  have  just  spo- 
ken.      Yet  we  shall  see  that  there  are  several  cul- 
tures still  smaller,  or,  if  you  please,  more  miserable 
than  this.     Observe  always  that  this  kind  of  small 
culture  and  even  that  by  hand,  of  which  we  shall 
soon  speak,  ordinarily  pay  a  higher  rent  to  proprie- 
tors than  the  great,  in  proportion  to  the  quantity  and 
quality  of  the  land,  by  the  effect  of  the  concurrence 
of  those  who  present  themselves  in  great  numbers 
to  work  it,  because  they  have  no  other  industry 
within  their  reach  ;  but  it  is  precisely  this  high  rent 


which  irrevocably  fixes  these  cultivators  in  that 
state  of  mediocrity,  or  penury,  which  renders  their 
culture  so  indifferent. 

When  the  soil  is  still  more  ungrateful,  or  when  by 
the  effect  of  different  circumstances  the  small  rural 
proprietors  are  rare,  the  great  proprietors  of  land 
have  not  this  resource  of  forming  small  farms  ;  they 
would  not  be  worth  the  trouble  of  working  them  and 
there  would  be  no  body  applying  for  them.  They 
adopt  then  another  plan  :  They  form  what  are  com- 
monly called  domains  or  half-shares  (metairies);  and 
they  frequently  attach  thereto  as  much  or  more  land 
than  is  contained  in  the  great  farms,  particularly  if 
they  do  not  disdain  to  take  into  account  the  waste 
lands,  which  commonly  are  not  rare  in  these  places, 
and  which  are  not  entirely  without  utility,  since  they 
are  employed  for  pasture,  and  even  now  and  then  are 
sown  with  corn  to  give  rest  to  the  fields  more  ha- 
bitually  cultivated.  These  metai+ies,  as  we  have 
seen,  are  sufficiently  large  as  to  extent,  and  very 
small  as  to  product ;  that  is  to  say  they  require 
great  pains  and  yield  little  profit.  Accordingly  none 
can  be  found  having  funds  who  are  willing  to  occu- 
py them,  and  to  bring  to  them  domestics,  moveables, 
teams  and  herds.  They  will  not  incur  such  expen- 
ses to  gain  nothing.  It  is  as  much  as  these  metai- 
ries would  be  worth,  were  they  abandoned  for  no- 
thing, without  demand  of  any  rent.  The  proprie- 
tor is  himself  then  obliged  to  stock  them  with  beasts, 
utensils  and  every  thing  necessary  for  working  them; 
and  to  establish  thereon  a  family  of  peasants,  who 
have  nothing  but  their  hands  ;  and  with  whom  he 
commonly  agrees,  instead  of  giving  them  wages,  te 


53. 

yield  them  balf  of  the  product,  as  a  recompense  for 
their  pains.  Thence  they  are  called  metayers,  work- 
ers on  half- shares. 

If  the  land  is  too  bad,  this  half  of  the  produce  is 
manifestly  insufficient  to  subsist,  even  miserably,  the 
number  of  men  necessary  to  work  it.  They  quickly 
run  in  debt,  and  are  necessarily  turned  away.  Yet 
others  are  always  found  to  replace  them,  because 
these  are  always  wretched  people  who  know  not 
what  to  do.  Even  those  go  elsewhere,  often  to  ex- 
perience the  same  fortune.  I  know  some  of  these 
metairies  which,  in  the  memory  of  man,  have  never 
supported  their  labourers  on  the  half  of  their  fruits. 
If  the  metairie  is  somewhat  better,  the  half-sharers 
vegetate  better  or  worse  ;  and  sometimes  even  make 
some  small  economies,  but  never  enough  to  raise 
them  to  the  state  of  real  undertakers.  However,  in 
those  times  and  cantons  in  which  the  country  peo- 
ple are  somewhat  less  miserable,  we  find  in  this 
class  of  men  some  individuals  who  have  some  small 
matter  in  advance  ;  as  for  example,  so  much  as  will 
nourish  them  during  a  year  in  expectation  of  the 
first  crop,  and  who  prefer  taking  a  metairie  on  lease, 
at  a  fixed  rent,  rather  than  to  divide  the  produce  of 
it.  They  hope  by  very  hard  labour  to  derive  a  little 
more  profit  from  it.  These  are  in  general  more  ac- 
tive, and  gain  something  if  the  ground  permits,  if 
they  are  fortunate,  if  their  family  is  not  too  numer- 
ous, if  they  have  not  given  too  great  a  rent  for  the 
an  d;  that  is  to  say  if  a  number  of  circumstances 
rather  improbable  have  united  in  their  favour.  Yet 
we  cannot  regard  them  as  true  farmers,  as  real  un- 
dertakers ;  since  it  is  always  the  proprietor  who  fur- 


mshes  the  gear,  the  beasts,  &c.  and  they  contribute 
only  their  labour.  Thus  it  is  still  proper  to  range 
them  in  the  class  of  half- sharers. 

The  mass  of  beasts,  which  the  proprietor  delivers 
and  confides  to  the  half-sharer,  is  called  cheptel.  It 
increases  every  year  by  breeding,  in  places  where 
they  raise  the  young,  and  the  half-sharer  divides  the 
increase  as  he  divides  the  harvest;  but  on  quitting  he 
must  return  a  cheptel  of  equal  value  with  that  he  re- 
ceived on  entering;  and,  as  he  has  nothing  to  answer, 
the  proprietor  or  his  agent  keeps  an  active  watch  over 
him,  to  prevent  him  from  encroaching  on  the  funds 
by  too  great  a  sale.  In  some  places,  the  proprietors 
not  being  willing  or  able  to  furnish  the  stock  of  chep- 
tel, there  are  cattle  merchants,  or  other  capitalists, 
who  furnish  them,  who  watch  over  the  half-sharer  in 
like  manner,  and  take  half  the  increase  as  the  inter- 
est of  their  funds;  on  the  whole,  it  is  very  indifferent 
to  the  half-sharer,  whether  they  or  the  proprietor  do 
it.  In  every  case  we  can  only  see  in  him  a  misera- 
ble undertaker,  without  means,  weighed  down  by 
two  lenders  at  high  premiums,  (he  who  furnishes  the 
land  and  he  who  furnishes  the  cattle,)  who  take  from 
him  all  his  profits,  and  leave  him  but  a  bare  and 
eometimes  insufficient  subsistence.  It  is  for  this  rea- 
son that  this  kind  of  cultivation  is  also  justly  called 
small  culture,  although  it  is  exercised  on  sufficiently 
large  masses  of  property. 

There  exists  still  another  species  of  work  to 
which  the  name  of  small  culture  is  also  given.  It 
is  that  of  small  rural  proprietors,  who  labour  their 
lands  themselves.  Almost  all  the  nations  of  mo- 
dern Europe  have  set  out  from  an  order  of  things, 


55 

wherein  the  totality  of  the  soil  was  the  exclusive 
property  of  a  small  number  of  great  proprietors  :  and 
all  the  rest  of  the  population  laboured  solely  for  them 
as  domestics,  as  serfs,  or  as  hirelings.    But  by  the 
effect  of  industry  always  acting,  and  of  successive  ali- 
enations, there  has  been  found  in  almost  every  coun- 
try a  greater  or  less  number  of  these  small  proprie- 
tors of  land,  who  all  have  this  in  common,  that  they 
live  on  their  land,  and  their  trade  is  to  cultivate  it. 
However,  with  respect  to  culture,  it  is  wrong  to  ar- 
range them  all  in  the  same  class — for  amongst  them 
are  some  who  have  a  somewhat  considerable  extent 
of  ground  ;  and  it  is  particularly  on  poor  lands  we 
find  them,  because  it  is  these  that  the  rich  have  alien- 
ated in  preference,  not  being  able  often  to  draw  any 
thing  from  them  themselves.       These  certainly  do 
not  incur  the  same  expenses  in  their  culture  as  the 
rich  farmers  of  great  farms ;  but  they  labour  with 
draught  animals  of  a  better  or  worse  quality,  and 
they  have  some  flocks.     In  a  word,  their  work  is 
absolutely  similar  to  that  of  the  small  farmers,  of 
whom  we  have  spoken  before.*     There  are  others 
again  who  possess  a  very  small  extent  of  ground, 
and  who  work  it  with  their  hands  alone,, — whether 
in  vegetables,  or  in  grain,  or  vines.     These  even 
positively  require  this  manner  of  working — which, 

*  See  what  is  the  difference  of  the  employment  of  funds.  This 
man,  who  cultivates  on  a  small  scale,  has  perhaps  an  estate  on  which 
he  could  raise  thirty  thousand  francs.  If  he  would  sell  it  he  would 
have  wherewithal  to  take  a  great  farm  in  a  good  country  ;  he  would 
be  much  better,  and  would  gain  more:  But  perhaps  he  does  not 
not  know  that  this  possibility  exists  far  from  him.  Were  he  to  know 
it  he  would  fear  the  risks  and  his  own  inexperience :  and,  besides,  man 
holds  to  his  habits,  and  to  the  pleasure  of  property. 

19 


56 

as  we  see,  is  very  different  from  the  preceding : 
besides  the  greater  part  of  those  who  thus  employ 
themselves  cannot  live  solely  on  the  produce  of 
their  soil,  and  undertake  day  labour  a  part  of  the 
year.  We  must  assimilate  to  these  latter  all  those 
who  hold  on  leases  from  rich  persons  small  habi- 
tations, with  spots  of  ground  attached  to  them ;  and 
who  are  known  by  the  name  of  tenants,  labourers, 
cottagers,  &c.  &c.  Their  industry  is  absolutely 
the  same,  and  their  existence  quite  similar ;  except 
that  the  small  rent  they  pay  represents  the  interest 
of  the  capital  which  the  others  possess  :  Here, 
then,  is  a  third  thing  which  is  also  called  small 
culture ;  and  which  comprehends  two  kinds  of  it, 
very  different  from  each  other. 

This  is  not  all — there  are  many  writers  who  call 
great  culture  that  which  is  done  with  horses,  and 
small  culture  that  which  is  done  with  oxen ;  and 
who  believe  that  this  division  answers  exactly  to 
that  of  farmers  and  half-sharers.  But  these  two 
designations  are  far  from  being  equivalent,  for  on 
one  side  the  labourers  work  with  their  hands  : — 
nothing  prevents  the  cultivators  of  small  farms,  and 
the  small  proprietors  of  the  first  of  the  two  species 
which  we  have  distinguished,  from  labouring  some- 
times with  horses  or  mules  ;  and  these  cultures  do 
not  the  less  deserve  the  name  of  small.  Moreover 
it  may  well  be  if  such  should  be  the  local  conveni- 
ences, that  tie  great  farmers  may  work  with  oxen  ; 
and  I  believe  this  is  seen  in  several  countries.  On 
the  other  side,  it  is  true  that  in  general  the  half- 
sharers  work  with  oxen:  1st  Because  this  me- 
thod being  less  expensive,  the  greater  part  of  pro- 


57 

prietors  prefer  it.  &d.  Because  commonly  the  pool- 
countries^  which  are  those  where  we  see  half- 
sharers,  produce  bad  hay,  little  or  no  oats,  and  are 
hot  susceptible  of  artificial  meadows.  3d.  Because 
these  half-sharers  being  negligent  and  unskilful,  it 
is  difficult  to  confide  to  them  animals  so  delicate  as 
horses.  But  it  is  not  this  which  constitutes  them, 
half-sharers,  and  which  distinguishes  between  them 
and  farmers.  Their  specific  character  is  that  of 
being  wretched,  without  means,  and  unable  to 
make  any  advances.  It  is  that  which  reduces  them 
to  be  half- sharers,  and  makes  their  culture  really 
small ;  although  by  reason  of  the  extent  of  their 
metairies,  which  commonly  occupy  a  great  deal  of 
ground,  there  are  some  who  still  call  it  great  cul- 
ture, in  opposition  to  that  of  small  farmers  or  small 
labourers,  or  in  opposition  only  to  culture  by  hand. 

Finally,  that  nothing  may  be  wanting  to  the  con- 
fusion of  ideas,  there  are  some  angloman  authors 
(as  Arthur  Young)  who  amuse  themselves  by  call- 
ing small  culture  that  of  our  greatest  farmers,  be- 
cause they  there  see  lands  at  rest,  reversing  exclu- 
sively the  name  of  great  culture  for  that  system  of 
rotation  which  themselves  approved, — without  re- 
flecting that  in  the  smallest  of  all  cultures,  that  by 
hand,  we  most  frequently  see  land  that  is  never 
suffered  to  rest. 

Thus  we  see  by  fair  statement  five  or  six  differ- 
ent  manners  of  employing  the  same  words,  of  which 
two  or  three  at  least  separate  things  absolutely 
similar,  and  unite  others  totally  different :  and  these 
words  are  continually  used  without  explaining  in 
which  sense  they  are  taken.  Proceeding  thus,  it 


58 

would  be  a  great  miracle  if  they  should  understand 
one  another. 

I  think  if  it  is  wished  to  write  with  some  preci- 
sion on  agriculture,  we  must  banish  the  expressions 
great  and  small  culture  as  too  equivocal ;  but  dis- 
tinguish carefully  four  sorts  of  culture,  which  have 
very  distinct  characters,  because  they  are  essenti- 
ally different ;  and  under  which  we  can  arrange  all 
imaginable  cultures.*  These  are  first  the  great 
farms,  or  the  culture  of  ricb  and  intelligent  under- 
takers, who  make  largely  all  the  necessary  advan- 
ces. We  see  them  only  in  places  worth  the  trou- 
ble. Sdly.  The  small  farms,  or  the  culture  of  un- 
dertakers who  likewise  employ  draught  animals  of 
their  own.  but  whose  means  of  all  kinds  are  less 
extensive.  They  are  generally  found  on  poorer 
soils.  (This  class  includes  the  small  farmers,  and 
the  small  proprietors,  of  the  first  of  the  two  species 
which  I  have  distinguished.)  3dly  The  metairies, 
or  the  culture  by  half-sharers,  who  also  employ 
draught  animals,  but  which  do  not  belong  to  them. 
This  is  peculiar  to  bad  soils.  4thly.  Day  labou- 
rers, or  the  culture  by  hand,  as  well  that  of  propri- 
etors as  of  tenants.  We  find  these  everywhere, 
and  especially  in  vine  countries.  But  they  are  in 
general  less  numerous  in  very  good  or  in  very  bad 

*  If  I  dare  to  affirm  this,  it  is  not  because  I  have  travelled  much ; 
but  I  have  had  property  for  about  forty  years,  in  a  country  of  great 
farms,  a  country  of  vineyards,  and  of  bad  h.vlf-shares.  I  have  always 
followed  their  progress  with  attention;  and  more  with  a  view  to 
the  general  effect  than  to  any  particular  interest.  I  have  effected 
sensible  ameliorations  in  the  two  latter,  and  I  am  persuaded  that 
when  we  have  thus  a  sufficient  field  of  observation  we  gain  more  by 
thoroughly  examining  than  by  multiplying  them. 


59 

countries  :  In  the  first  because  the  rich  have  kept 
almost 'all  the  land,  in  the  others  because  the  land 
would  not  compensate  them,  and  they  prefer  going 
to  seek  their  livelihood  by  day  labour  elsewhere.-— 
This  division  appears  to  me  clearer  and  more  in- 
structive than  all  the  others,  because  it  shows  the 
causes  of  the  effects.  Let  us  therefore  use  it  as  to 
what  remains  for  us  to  say. 

I  think  I  have  proved  that  the  proprietors  of 
lands,  who  do  not  work  them  themselves,  have  ab- 
solutely nothing  in  common  with  agriculture,  nor 
with  the  laws  which  govern  it,  nor  with  the  inte- 
rests which  direct  it ;  that  they  are  purely  and 
solely  annuitants  and  lenders  of  a  particular  kind  ; 
and,  consequently,  that  having  to  give  an  account 
of  the  fabrication  of  the  products,  I  ought  to  put 
them  aside,  and  consider  only  the  undertakers  of 
culture. 

Then  I  have  shown  that  it  is  indispensable  that 
the  undertakers  of  the  most  necessary  fabrications 
should  be,  of  all  others,  those  who  make  the  most 
slender  profits,  in  proportion  to  the  quantity  of  their 
advances  and  productions ;  and  further,  that  agri- 
cultural undertakings  have  this  particular  inconve- 
nience, that  one  man  is  not  sufficient  to  give  them 
so  great  an  extent  as  u>  compensate  for  the  small- 
ness  of  his  profits  by  the  greatness  of  his  business. 
.  I  have  shown  afterwards — First,  that  the  most 
fertile  countries  are  those  alone,  in  which  the  pro- 
ducts of  the  quantity  of  land  which  one  man  can 
manage  are  sufficiently  considerable  to  make  the 
lot  of  the  undertaker  tolerable  ;  that  it  is  for  these 
reasons  that  those  countries  are  also  the  only  ones 


60 

in  which  we  see  undertakers  of  culture  having  suf- 
ficient means  and  capacity  ;  and  that  they  moreover 
seldom  act  on  their  own  funds,  but  on  those  of 
others, — which  is  always  a  disadvantageous  situa- 
tion for  fabricators.  We  call  them,  however,  great 
farmers. 

Sdly.  That  when  the  lands  are  less  good,  the 
profits  become  so  very  slender,  that  we  can  no  lon- 
ger find  but  indifferent  and  insufficient  undertakers. 
These  are  the  small  farmers. 

3dly.  That  when  the  soil  is  still  worse,  the  pro- 
fits becoming  absolutely  null,  the  owner  is  reduced 
to  the  necessity  of  having  no  undertaker ;  for  half- 
sharers  are  really  but  receivers  of  wages,  since  they 
make  no  advances  and  furnish  only  their  labour. 

4thly.  and  finally,  That  other  circumstances  ren- 
der the  enterprize  so  small  that  the  undertaker  and 
labourer  are  necessarily  one  and  the  same  person, 
Who  employ  no  machine  but  their  hands,  and  em- 
ploy even  them  often  elsewhere.  Such  are  the 
day  labourers.  Such  a  business  can  scarcely  tempt 
a  capitalist. 

There  is,  however,  an  exception  to  these  general 
truths.  It  is  in  favour  of  the  culture  of  very  pre- 
cious productions  :  such  as  certain  drugs  for  dying, 
or  wines  highly  esteemed.  There  great  profits  may 
be  made.  Accordingly  we  sometimes  see  great  ca- 
pitalists buy  lands  suitable  to  these  productions, 
cultivate  them  themselves,  draw  from  them  all  their 
profits,  and  make  of  them  immense  and  fortunate 
speculations.  But  this  exception  itself  confirms 
the  rule;  for  these  productions  have  the  merit  and 
the  price  of  rarities.  They  are  a  real  merchandise 


61 

of  luxury.  Thus  these  speculations,  although 
agricultural,  are  not  in  the  class  of  fabrications  of 
things  of  the  first  necessity. 

If  this  picture  is  exact,  if  it  is  a  faithful  represen- 
tation of  facts,  if  it  is  true  that  agriculture,  even 
under  the  most  favourable  circumstances,  is  not  and 
cannot  be  but  a  laborious  and  not  very  profitable 
profession,  we  must  not  be  astonished  that  it  does 
not  hold  the  first  rank  in  society,  and  that  capitals 
do  not  seek  it.  We  should  perceive  that  they  are 
not  and  never  will  be  so  employed  but  by  those 
who  cannot  or  know  not  how  to  employ  them  other- 
wise. The  only  mean  of  causing  numerous  capi- 
tals to  be  employed  in  agriculture  is,  then,  to  cause 
them  to  superabound  elsewhere.  This  evil,  if  it 
be  one,  is  incurable ;  and  it  is  very  useful  to  know 
it.  For  however  \ve  may  say  that  agriculture  is 
the  first  of  arts  ;  that  it  is  the  foster  mother  of  man ; 
that  it  is  his  natural  destination  ;  that  we  are  wrong 
in  not  honouring  it  more  ;  that  the  emperor  of  Chi- 
na ploughs  a  furrow  every  year,  and  a  thousand 
similar  fine  things  ;  all  this  will  amount  to  nothing, 
and  will  change  nothing  in  the  march  of  society  : — 
These  are  vain  declamations  which  do  not  merit  our 
attention.  Let  us  make  only  some  short  reflections 
on  the  first  of  these  phrases,  because  it  conceals  an 
error.  To  bring  it  to  light  is  to  refute  it. 

Certainly  agriculture  is  the  first  of  arts  in  rela- 
tion to  necessity  ;  for  before  all  things  we  must  eat 
in  order  to  live.  If  they  mean  to  say  this  only, 
they  say  what  is  incontestible  but  very  insignificant. 
If  they  understand  by  these  words  that  agriculture 
is  the  only  art  absolutely  necessary,  the  assertion 


62 

is  very  inexact ;  for  we  have  other  very  pressing 
wants  besides  that  of  eating,  as  for  example  that  of 
being  clothed  and  lodged.  Moreover  culture  itself, 
in  order  to  be  in  a  small  degree  developed,  needs 
the  succour  of  many  other  arts,  such  as  that  of 
melting  metals  and  fashioning  wood  ;  and  its  pro- 
ducts, to  be  completely  appropriated  to  our  use, 
still  require  at  least  that  of  the  miller  and  baker. 
Here  then  we  see  many  other  indispensable  arts. 

Finally,  if  they  have  pretended  to  affirm,  as  ma- 
ny will  have  it,  that  agriculture  is  the  first  of  arts 
in  relation  to  riches,  the  pretended  axiom  is  com- 
pletely false.  In  the  first  place  we  have  seen,  in 
respect  to  individuals,  that  those  who  devote  them- 
selves to  agriculture  are  inevitably  of  the  number 
of  those  who  make  the  smallest  profits  :.  thus  they 
cannot  be  of  the  richest.  Now  what  is  true  of 
every  individual  cannot  be  false  of  nations,  which 
are  but  collections  of  individuals.  If  you  doubt 
the  strength  of  this  demonstration  place  on  one  side 
twenty  thousand  men  occupied  in  the  cultivation  of 
wheat  for  sale,  and  on  the  other  an  equal  number 
occupied  in  making  watches.  Suppose  that  both 
find  a  market  for  their  produce,  and  see  which  will 
be  the  richest :  Such  are  Geneva  and  Poland. 

One  of  the  things  which  has  most  contributed 
to  the  mistake  of  so  manifest  a  truth  is  also  an  equi- 
vocal expression.  We  take  very  frequently  our 
means  of  subsistence  for  our  means  of  existence. 
These  are  two  very  different  things.  Our  means ' 
of  subsistence  are  without  contradiction  alimentary 
matters  ;  and  the  quantity  of  these  that  can  be  pro- 
eured  in  a  country  is  the  necessary  limit  of  the 


65 

number  of  men  who  can  live  therein.  But  our 
means  of  existence  is  the  sum  of  the  profits  we  can 
make  by  our  labour,  aud  with  which  we  can  pro- 
cure for  ourselves  both  subsistence  and  other  enjoy- 
ments. It  is  in  vain  that  the  Polander  raises  a 
great  quantity  of  wheat:  the  overplus  of  what  he 
consumes,  which  he  is  obliged  to  sell  to  foreigners 
at  a  low  price,  with  difficulty  supplies  his  other 
wants.  He  does  not  live  the  better  on  it,  nor  mul- 
tiply more.  The  Genevan,  on  the  contrary, — who 
does  not  gather  even  a  potatoe,  but  makes  great 
profit  on  the  watches  he  fabricates, — has  that  with 
which  he  can  buy  grain  and  all  other  things  neces- 
sary for  him ;  on  which  he  can  bring  up  his  chil- 
dren, and  likewise  economise.  The  first,  notwith- 
standing the  great  quantity  of  his  means  of  subsis- 
tence, has  very  few  of  the  means  of  existence  :  The 
second,  having  great  means  of  existence,  procures 
abundantly  the  articles  of  subsistence  which  he  has 
not,  and  whatever  else  he  wants.  It  is  therefore 
true  that  these  are  two  things,  which  it  is  very 
wrong  not  to  distinguish  carefully.  This  fault 
shows  itself  in  many  otherwise  excellent  works, 
(particularly  in  that  of  Mr.  Malthus  on  population) 
in  which  it  casts  an  ambiguity  over  some  explica- 
tions, valuable  in  all  respects.  It  is  therefore  a 
point  which  it  was  well  to  elucidate. 

Let  me  not,  however,  be  accused  of  mistaking  the 
importance  of  agriculture,  and  of  wishing  that  it 
should  be  neglected.  In  the  first  place  I  know 
very  well  that,  although  useful  in  itself,  it  is  not  the 
only  thing  to  be  desired  either  for  individuals  or 
for  societies  $  and  that  a  nation,  notwithstanding 
SO 


66 

great  means,  Las  but  a  precarious  existence  if  it 
depends  on  strangers  for  its  subsistence.  I  know, 
moreover,  that  although  each  single  enterprize  of 
culture  cannot  be  regarded  but  as  a  very  small  ma- 
nufactory, as  in  a  large  country  their  number  is 
immense  in  comparison  with  that  of  ail  other  fabri- 
cations, they  compose  a  very  great  portion  of  the 
industry  and  wealth  of  a  nation.  The  great  details 
into  which  I  have  gone  to  analyse  the  operation  of 
all  the  springs  of  agricultural  industry,  prove  suffi- 
ciently the  importance  I  attach  to  it ;  and  certainly 
to  show  clearly  that  a  profession  is  at  the  same  time 
very  necessary,  and  very  unprofitable,  is  the  best 
method  of  proving  that  it  should  be  favoured.  But 
we  have  not  yet  reached  this  point.  The  only 
object  at  present  is  to  establish  facts.  We  will 
afterwards  draw  their  conclusions  ;  and  if  the  first 
of  these  operations  has  been  well  performed  the 
second  will  not  be  difficult.  Let  us  confine  our- 
selves then  to  these  generalities  on  fabricating  in- 
dustry, and  speak  of  commercial  industry. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Of  the  change  of  place,  or  of  Commercial  Industry. 

THE  insulated  man  would  fabricate  to  a  certain 
point,  because  he  would  labour  for  himself ;  but  he 
would  not  trade, — for  with  whom  could  he  have 
trade  ?  Commerce  and  society  are  one  and  the 
same  thing.  Accordingly  we  have  seen  in  the  first 
chapter,  that  society  from  its  origin  is  essentially 
nothing  but  a  continual  commerce,  a  perpetual  se- 
ries of  exchanges  of  every  kind, — of  which  we  have 
rapidly  indicated  the  principal  advantages  and  the 
prodigious  effects.  Commerce  then  exists  long  be- 
fore there  are  merchants,  properly  so  called. — 
These  are  agents  who  facilitate  it,  and  who  serve 
it,  but  who  do  not  constitute  it.  We  may  even 
say  that  the  exchanges  which  they  make  in  their 
commercial  capacity  are  but  preparatory  exchanges; 
for  the  exchange  for  use  is  not  completed,  has  not 
fully  attained  its  end,  until  the  merchandise  has 
passed  from  him  who  fabricated  to  him  who  wants 
it,  whether  to  consume  it  or  to  make  it  the  subject 
of  a  new  fabrication  ;  and  the  latter  ought  at  this 
moment  to  be  regarded  as  a  consumer.  The  mer- 
chant, properly  so  called,  interposes  between  these 
two  persons,  the  producer  and  the  consumer  ;  but 
it  is  not  to  injure  them.  He  is  neither  a  parasite 
nor  an  inconvenient  person :-  On  the  contrary,  he 


68 

facilitates  relations,  commerce,  society  ;  for,  once 
again  I  repeat,  all  these  are  one  and  the  same  thing 
between  this  producer  and  this  consumer.  He  is 
useful  then,  and  consequently  a  producer  also  ;  for 
we  have  seen  (Chapter  II.)  that  whosoever  is  use- 
ful is  a  producer,  and  that  there  is  no  other  way  of 
being  so.  It  is  now  to  be  shown  how  the  merchant 
is  a  producer  of  utility.  But  previously  let  us  give 
some  preparatory  explanations,  which  will  be  of 
service  to  us  in  the  sequel.  We  have  in  the  first 
chapter  only  shown  the  general  advantages  of  ex- 
change, and  those  of  the  commerce  between  man  and 
man.  Let  us  render  sensible  those  of  the  commerce 
between  canton  an'd  canton,  and  country  and  coun- 
try ;  and  for  this  purpose  let  us  take  France  for  ex- 
ample, because  it  is  a  very  large  and  wreli  known 
country. 

Let  us  suppose  the  French  nation  the  only  one 
in  the  world,  or  surrounded  with  desarts  impossible 
to  be  traversed.  It  has  portions  of  its  territory 
very  fertile  in  grain  ;  others  more  humid,  which  are 
good  only  for  pasturage  ;  others  formed  of  arid 
hills,  which  are  only  proper  for  the  cultivation  of 
vines ;  finally  others  more  mountainous,  which  can 
produce  little  else  than  wood.  If  each  of  those 
portions  should  be  reduced  within  itself  what  would 
happen  ?  It  is  clear  that  in  the  corn  districts  a 
tolerably  numerous  population  could  still  be  sub- 
sisted ;  because  it  would  at  least  have  the  mean  of 
amply  satisfying  the  first  of  all  wants,  that  of  nou- 
rishment :  however  this  is  not  the  only  want. — - 
Clothing,  shelter,  &c  &c.  are  also  necessary. — 
These  people  then  will  be  obliged  to  sacrifice  in 


69 

woods,  pasturage,  and  bad  vines,  much  of  this  good 
land;  of  which  a  much  smaller  quantity  would  have 
sufficed  to  procure  for  them  what  they  wanted  hy 
way  of  exchange,  the  remainder  of  which  would 
still  have  nourished  many  other  men,  or  served  to  pro- 
vide better  for  those  who  live  there.  Thus  this  people 
would  not  be  so  numerous  as  if  they  enjoyed  com- 
merce, and  yet  they  will  want  many  things.  This 
is  still  more  true  of  those  who  inhabit  the  hills  suit- 
able to  vines.  If  they  are  even  industrious  they 
will  only  make  wine  for  their  own  use,  not  being 
able  to  sell  it.  They  will  exhaust  themselves  in 
unfruitful  labours  to  produce  on  their  arid  hills 
some  grain  of  inferior  quality,  not  knowing  where 
to  purchase  ;  they  will  want  every  thing  else.  The 
population,  although  agricultural,  will  be  misera- 
ble and  thin.  In  districts  of  marshes  and  meadows, 
too  humid  for  corn,  too  cold  for  rice,  it  will  be 
much  worse.  They  must  necessarily  cease  to  cul- 
tivate, and  be  reduced  to  be  graziers,  and  even  to 
nourish  as  many  animals  only  as  they  can  eat.  It 
is  very  true  that  in  this  situation — having  beasts  of 
burden,  of  draught,  and  for  the  saddle,  to  render 
themselves  formidable, — they  will  soon  become  bri- 
gands, as  all  erratic  people  are  ;  but  this  will  be  an 
evil  the  more.  As  for  the  country  of  woods  there 
would  be  no  mean  of  living  but  the  chase,  in  propor- 
tion and  so  far  as  they  would  be  able  to  find  wild 
animals,  without  even  thimung  to  preserve  their 
skins ;  for  what  use  could  they  make  of  them.  This 
however  is  the  state  of  France:  if  you  suppress  all 
correspondence.between  its  parts,  one  half  is  savage 
the  other  badly  provided. 


70 

Let  us  suppose,  on  the  contrary,  this  correspon- 
dence active  and  easy,  but  always  without  exterior 
relations.  Then  the  production  proper  to  each  can- 
ton would  no  longer  be  arrested  for  want  of  a  vent, 
nor  by  the  necessity  of  pursuing  in  spite  of  locali- 
ties labours  very  unfruitful  but  necessary,  for  want 
of  exchanges,  in  order  themselves  to  provide  either 
well  or  ill  for  all  their  wants,  at  least  for  the  most 
pressing.  The  country  of  good  land  will  produce 
as  much  corn  as  possible ;  and  will  send  it  to  the 
country  of  vineyards,  which  will  produce  as  muqli 
wine  as  can  be  sold.  Both  will  supply  the  country 
of  pasturage,  in  which  the  animals  will  multiply  in 
proportion  to  the  market,  and  the  men  in  propor- 
tion to  the  means  of  existence  which  this  market 
would  procure  for  them.  And  these  three  countries 
united  would  feed  in  the  mountains  the  most  rug- 
ged industrious  inhabitants,  by  whom  they  will  be 
furnished  with  wood  and  metak.  They  would  in- 
crease the  quantity  of  flax  and  hemp  in  the  north 
to  send  linen  cloth  into  the  south  ;  which  last  would 
increase  their  silks  and  oils  to  pay  for  them.  The 
smallest  local  advantages  would  be  turned  to  pro- 
fit. A  district  of  flint  would  furnish  gun-flints  to 
all  the  others  which  have  none,  and  its  inhabitants 
would  live  on  the  produce  of  this  supply.  Another 
of  rocks  alone  will  send  mill-stones  into  several 
provinces.  A  little  spot  of  sand  will  produce  mad- 
der for  all  the  diers.  %orae  fields  of  a  certain  kind 
of  clay  will  furnish  earth  for  all  the  potteries  The 
inhabitants  of  the  coast  will  set  no  bounds  to  their 
fishing,  beins;  able  to  send  their  salted  fish  into  the 
interior  ;  it  will  be  the  same  with  sea  salt,  with 


alkalies,  with  marine  plants,  with  the  gums  of  re- 
sinous trees.  New  kinds  of  industry  will  be  seen 
arising  every  where,  not  only  for  the  exchange  of 
merchandise,  but  also  by  the  communication  of 
knowledge  ;  for  if  no  country  produces  all  things 
none  invents  all  things.  When  there  is  communi- 
cation, what  is  known  in  one  place  is  known  every 
where  ;  and  it  is  much  readier  to  learn,  or  even  to 
perfect,  than  to  invent :  besides  it  is  commerce  itself 
which  inspires  the  desire  of  inventing,  it  is  even  its 
great  extension  which  alone  renders  possible  many 
different  kinds  of  industry.  Yet  these  new  arts 
occupy  a  multitude  of  men,  who  do  not  live  on  their 
labour,  but  because  that  of  their  neighbours  having 
become  more  fruitful  suffices  to  pay  them.  Here 
then  is  the  same  France,  lately  so  indigent  and  un- 
inhabited, filled  with  a  numerous  and  well  provid- 
ed population.  All  this  is  solely  owing  to  the  bet- 
ter employment  of  every  local  advantage  and  of  the 
faculties  of  every  individual,  without  a  necessity  for 
the  French  nation  to  have  made  the  smallest  profit 
at  the  expense  of  any  other  nation,  without  even  a 
possibility  of  its  so  doing,  since  our  hypothesis  sup- 
poses it  alone  in  the  world.  We  will  see  else- 
where what  we  should  think  of  those  pretended 
profits  which  one  people  makes  at  the  expense  of 
another,  /  and  how  we  ought  to  appreciate  them. — 
But  we  may  affirm  in  advance,  that  they  are  illu- 
sory or  very  small ;  and  that  the  true  utility  of  ex- 
terior commerce,  that  in  comparison  with  which  all 
others  are  nothing,  is  to  establish  between  different ' 
nations  the  same  relations  which  interior  commerce 
establishes  between  different  parts  of  the  same 


nation,  to  constitute  them,  if  we  may  thus  speak,  ill 
a  state  of  society  with  one  another;  to  enlarge  thus 
the  extent  of  market  for  all,  and  by  this  mean  in- 
crease likewise  the  advantages  of  the  interior  com- 
merce of  every  one. 

This  commerce,  without  doubt,  can  and  does  ex- 
ist, to  a  certain  point,  before  there  are  commercial- 
ists,  properly  so  called ;  that  is  to  say  men  who 
make  commerce  their  sole  occupation ;  but  it  could 
not  be  much  developed  without  their  assistance. — 
When  a  man  has  fabricated,  or  is  in  possession  of 
some  useful  thing,  he  may  it  is  true  exchange  it 
himself,  without  an  intermediary,  for  another  useful 
thing  which  some  other  man  possesses  ;  but  this  is 
not  often  either  easy  or  commodious.  This  other 
man  may  not  have  a  desire  of  selling  when  we  wish 
to  buy ;  he  may  be  unwilling  to  sell  but  a  great  deal 
at  a  time  ;  he  may  not  care  for  that  which  is  offered 
in  exchange ;  he  may  be  very  distant ;  we  may  even 
not  know  that  he  has  that  which  we  desire.  In 
fine,  in  the  course  of  life  one  has  need  of  an  almost 
infinite  multitude  of  different  things.  If  it  were 
necessary  to  draw  directly  each  of  them  from  its 
immediate  producer,  one  would  pass  their  whole 
time  in  going  backward  and  forward,  and  even  in 
distant  journeys;  the  inconveniences  of  which  would 
greatly  surpass  the  utility  of  the  things  which  would 
be  their  object ;  it  would  therefore  be  necessary  to 
do  without  them. 

The  merchant  comes  :  He  draws  from  all  places 
the  things  which  superabound  therein,  ,and  carries 
thither  those  which  they  want.  He  is  always  rea- 
dy to  buy  when  any  one  wishes  to  sell,  and  to  sell 


73 

when  any  body  wishes  to  buy.     He  keeps  his  mer- 
chandise till  the  moment  it  is  wanted,  and  retails  it 
if  necessary.     In  short,  he  takes  it  off  the  hands  of 
the  producer,  who  is  encumbered  with  it,  places  it 
within  reach  of  the  consumer  who  desires  it ;  and  all 
their  relations  have  become  easy  and  commodious  : 
Yet  what  has  he  done?     In  his  commercial  capacity 
he  has  operated  no  change  of  form,  but  he  has  ope- 
rated changes  of  place,  and  a  great  utility  is  pro- 
duced.     In  effect,  since  values  are  the  measure  of 
the  degrees  of  utility,  (see  chapter  3d)  it  is  manifest 
that  a  thing  carried  from  a  place  where  it  is  at  a  low 
price  and  brought  to  one  in  which  it  bears  a  high 
one,  has  acquired  by  its  transportation  a  degree  of 
utility  which  it  had  not  before. 

I  know  that  this  explication  is  so  simple  that  it 
appears  silly,  and  that  all  this  appears  written  for 
children ;  for  men  are  not  supposed  to  be  ignorant 
of  facts  so  common  and  truths  so  trivial.  But  these 
trivial  truths  demonstrate  another  very  much  con- 
tested, which  is,  thaf  whoever  produces  utility  is  a 
producer,  and  that  the  merchant  is  quite  as  much 
one  as  those  to  whom  they  have  wished  exclusively 
to  give  this  title.  1^  ow  let  us  search  what  is  his 
recompense  for  the  utility  he  has  produced. 

If  we  examine  commercial  industry  it  presents  us 
the  same  aspect  as  fabricating  industry.  Here 
also,  there  is  theory,  application  and  execution  ;  and 
consequently  three  kinds  of  labourers,  the  man  of 
science,  the  undertaker^  and  the  workman  Also, 
it  is  true  that  those  whose  labour  is  applied  to  the 
most  necessary  things  are  inevitably  the  worst  paid; 
but  it  is  not  as  in  the  euterprizes  of  agriculture. — 
SI 


74 

The  undertaker  can  augment  his  speculations  inde- 
finitely  as  far  as  the  market   permits,    and   thus 
compensate  the  smallness  of  his  profits  by  the  extent 
of  his  business.     Hence  the  proverb,  there  is  no 
small  trade  in  a  large  city.     The  head  of  a  com- 
mercial enterprize  also  gives  salaries  to  those  he 
employs  :     He  makes  all  the  advances  ;  and  he  is 
recompensed  for  his  pains,  his  expenses,  and  his 
risks,  by  the  augmentation  of  value  which  his  la- 
bour has  given  to  things — an  augmentation  which 
causes  his  sales  to  surpass  his  purchases.     It  is  true 
that  as  the  undertaker  of  fabrication  he  loses,  instead 
of  gaining,  if  being  deceived  in  his  speculations  his 
labour  is  unfruitful.      Like  him,  also,  he  labours 
sometimes  on  his  own  funds,  sometimes  on  those  he 
borrows.     In  short,  the  similarity  is  complete,  and 
this  dispenses  me  from  entering  into  more  details. 
It  is  not  yet  time  to  discuss  delicate  questions,  nor 
to  appreciate  the  merit  of  certain  very  complicated 
combinations.     As  yet  we  have  had  occasion  to 
give  a  general  glance  of  the  eye  only  on  the  march 
of  society  and  the  train  of  affairs.     If  we  have 
formed  a  just  idea  of  them  we  shall  soon  see  that 
many  things  which  are  thought  very  mysterious  are 
merely  perplexed  by  prejudice  and  quackery,  and 
that  mere  common  sense  is  sufficient  to  resolve  dif- 
ficulties which  appear  very  embarrassing  when  we 
have  not  remounted  to  principles.     To  complete 
the  laying  our  foundation  let  us  say  a  word  of 
money. 


If  I  H.i;  A  |; 

ii.sr.Tv 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Of  Money. 

I  have  already  spoken  of  the  developement  of  in- 
dustry, and  even  of  that  of  commerce  ;  and  I  have 
not  yet  said  a  word  of  money.  It  is  because  in  ef- 
fect it  is  not  more  indispensable  to  commerce  than 
merchants.  Those  are  its  agents,  this  its  instru- 
ment. But  it  can  and  does  exist,  to  a  certain  point, 
before  and  without  these  two  helps,  —  although  they 
are  very  useful  to  it. 

We  have  seen  in  the  third  paragraph  of  the  in- 
troduction, and  in  the  third  chapter,  which  treats  of 
values,  that  all  useful  things  have  a  determinate 
value.  They  have  even  two  ;  but  at  this  moment 
I  speak  only  of  the  conventional  value,  or  market 
price.  All  these  values  are  measured  the  oue  by 
the  other.  When,  to  procure  any  thing  whatsoe- 
ver, one  is  disposed  to  give  a  double  quantity  of 
any  other  thing  whatsoever,  it  is  evident  that  the 
first  is  twice  as  much  esteemed  as  the  second.  — 
Thus  the  relation  of  their  value  is  fixed  ;  and  one 
can  exchange  or  negotiate  these  two  things  at  this 
rate,  without  recourse  to  any  thing  intermediate.  — 
We  can  give  hay  for  corn,  or  corn  for  wood  ;  a  cart- 
load of  potters  clay,  or  of  brick  earth,  for  some 
plates  or  tiles,  &c.  ;  but  it  is  evident  that  this  is  very 
inconvenient,  that  it  occasions  removals  so  trouble- 


76 

some  as  to  render  most  affairs  impracticable ;  thai 
many  of  these  merchandises  are  not  divisible,  so  as 
to  correspond  well  with  the  others;  that  many 
amongst  them  cannot  be  indefinitely  preserved  until 
the  moment  of  finding  employment  for  them,  and 
that  were  they  preserved  we  are  still  greatly  em- 
barrassed if,  as  must  continually  happen,  what  we 
have  is  not  precisely  that  which  suits  him  who  pos- 
sesses what  we  desire  ;  or  if  he  wishes  but  a  very 
small  quantity  of  ours,  when  we  want  a  large  quan- 
tity of  his.  In  the  midst  of  all  these  difficulties 
commerce  then  ought  to  be  very  languishing,  and 
consequently  industry  also.  It  is  proper  to  dwell 
a  little  on  these  inconveniencies,  for  we  are  always 
but  little  affected  by  those  which  we  have  never  ex- 
perienced. We  do  not  even  imagine  them.  Hav- 
ing never  seen  such  an  order  of  things,  we  have  no 
lively  idea  of  it ;  it  appears  to  us  almost  chimerical. 
But  it  has  existed,  and  probably  for  a  very  long 
time  before  that  of  which  we  still  complain  5  and 
even  with  reason,  although  it  is  much  better. 

Happily  amongst  all  useful  things  there  is  one 
kind  which  is  distinguished,  that  of  the  precious 
inetals.  These  like  others  are  a  merchandise,  in- 
asmuch as  they  have  the  necessary  value  which  re- 
sults from  the  labour  their  extraction  and  transpor- 
tation have  cost,  and  the  market  value  given  them, 
by  the  possibility  of  making  them  into  vases,  orna- 
ments, or  different  conveniencies  and  instruments. 
But  they  have  moreover  the  property  of  being  easily 
refined  ;  so  that  we  know  very  exactly  what  quan- 
tity we  have  of  them,  and  that  all  their  parts  are 
similar, — which  renders  them  very  comparable,  and 


leaves  no  fear  of  their  being  of  different  qualities. 
Besides  they  are  inalterable,  and  susceptible  of  be- 
ing divided  into  portions  as  great  or  small  as  we 
wish.  Finally,  they  are  easily  transported. — 
These  qualities  must  cause  every  one  to  prefer  these 
metals  to  every  other  useful  thing,  whenever  we 
only  wish  to  preserve  the  value  we  possess  for  an 
indefinite  time  until  the  moment  of  want.  For 
every  one  who  has  any  merchandise  subject  to 
damage,  the  quality  of  which  may  be  uncertain  or 
changeable,  which  is  of  great  incumbrance,  or  little 
susceptible  of  being  retailed  on  occasion,  is  natu- 
rally disposed  to  exchange  it  for  another  which  has 
none  of  those  inconveniencies.  From  this  general 
disposition,  it  will  naturally  result,  that  the  mer- 
chandise, which  possesses  so  many  advantages  in 
this  respect,  should  become  by  degrees  the  common 
measure  of  all  others.  This  is  also  what  has  hap- 
pened every  where.  This  appears  singular  when 
the  reason  is  unknown,  but  inevitable  when  known. 
It  is  the  same  in  all  cases.  So  soon  as  a  thing  is? 
be  assured  there  are  victorious  reasons  why  it 
should  be,  which  however  does  not  mean  that 
stronger  reasons  may  not  afterwards  be  discovered 
why  it  should  no  longer  be.  But  here  it  is  not  the 
case.  The  precious  metals  once  become  the  com- 
mon and  general  measure,  the  universal  type  of  all 
exchanges,  acquire  still  an  advantage  which  they 
had  not  before.  It  is  first  to  have  a  greater  market 
value,  as  they  have  acquired  a  new  kind  of  utility  ; 
(but  this  would  not  affect  the  object  which  now  oc- 
cupies us)  and  next  their  market  value  their  price 
becomes  more  constant  than  that  of  any  other  mer~ 


78 

chandise.  Being  in  constant  demand  in  all  places, 
and  on  every  occasion,  they  are  not  subject  to  the 
variations  experienced  by  a  thing  sometimes  sought 
sometimes  refused  :  Besides  they  do  not  depend  on 
the  inconstancy  of  the  seasons,  and  very  little  on 
that  of  events.  Their  total  quantity  does  not 
change,  but  from  causes  slow  and  rare.  They  are 
then  every  day  more  confirmed  in  their  character  of 
being  the  common  measure  of  exchanges.  Howe- 
ver they  are  not  yet  money.  As  yet  they  are  trans- 
mitted only  in  bars  and  ingots,  and  at  every  change 
of  hands  they  must  be  assayed  and  weighed ;  this 
is  troublesome. 

When  society  is  a  little  more  perfected,  the  com- 
petent authority  intervenes  to  give  to  this  mean  of 
exchanges  a  greater  degree  of  commodiousness.  It 
divides  these  metals  into  portions  adapted  to  the 
most  ordinary  uses.  It  impresses  on  them  a  mark 
which  indicates  the  total  weight ;  and  in  this  weight 
the  quantity  of  foreign  matter  which  it  has  been 
convenient  to  leave  therein  for  the  facility  of  fabri- 
cation, but  which  is  not  to  be  counted  for  real  value. 
This  is  what  is  called  the  weight  and  standard. — 
In  this  state  the  metals  have  become  completely 
money ;  and  authority  has  done  a  benefit  in  giving 
them  this  character.  We  shall  see  hereafter  that  it 
has  but  too  often  done  evil  by  other  acts  of  its  power 
in  this  way. 

This  short  explanation  of  the  nature  of  money 
shows  us,  first,  that  there  can  only  be  one  metal 
which  can  really  be  money,  that  is  to  say  to  the 
value  of  which  we  refer  all  other  values  ;  for  in 
every  calculation  there  can  be  but  one  kind  of  unit 


79 

which  serves  as  a  basis.  This  metal  is  silver,  be- 
cause it  is  this  which  is  best  adapted  to  the  greatest 
number  of  subdivisions,  of  which  there  is  need  in 
exchanges.  Gold  is  too  rare,  the  other  m etuis  too 
common. 

Gold,  however,  comes  in  aid  of  silver  in  the  pay- 
ment of  very  great  sums ;  as  would,  also,  the  pre- 
cious stones  if  they  were  divisible  without  a  loss  of 
value.  But  it  is  only  as  a  subsidiary  that  it  is  em- 
ployed, and  only  by  referring  the  value  of  gold  to 
that  of  silver.  The  proportion  in  Europe  is  nearly 
as  fifteen  or  sixteen  to  one ;  but  it  varies,  as  every 
other  proportion  of  value  according  to  the  demand. 
In  China  it  is  commonly  as  twelve  or  thirteen  to 
one ;  whilst  in  Indostan,  on  the  contrary,  we  are 
told  it  is  about  as  eighteen  or  twenty  to  one.  Thus 
there  is  a  profit  in  carrying  silver  to  China,  because 
for  twelve  ounces  of  silver  you  have  there  one  ounce 
of  gold,  which  on  return  into  Europe  is  worth  fif- 
teen ounces  of  silver,  whereby  you  have  gained 
three  ounces  ;  and,  on  the  contrary,  there  is  a  profit 
in  carrying  gold  into  Indostan,  because  for  one 
ounce  of  gold  you  there  have  eighteen  of  silver,  and 
thus  you  have  gained  three  ounces  of  the  latter  me- 
tal. Political  authorities  may  however  very  well 
coin  money  of  gold  and  fix  its  proportion  with  that 
of  silver,  that  is  to  say,  determine  that,  whenever 
there  are  no  stipulations  to  the  contrary,  one  ounce 
of  gold  or  fifteen  or  sixteen  ounces  of  silver  shall 
be  received  indifferently.  It  is  as  in  judicial  ac- 
tions, they  establish  that  when  there  are  sums  of 
money  that  ought  to  bear  an  interest  which  has  not 
been  stipulated  by  the  parties,  that  interest  shall  be 


80 

so  much  per  cent.  But  they  cannot,  or  at  least 
ought  not  to  prevent  individuals  from  regulating 
between  themselves  the  quantity  of  gold  which  they 
wish  to  give,  or  receive,  for  a  certain  quantity  of 
silver,  any  more  than  from  determining  by  agree- 
ment the  rate  of  interest  of  the  sum  they  lend  or 
borrow.  Accordingly,  it  is  thus  these  two  things 
are  always  arranged  in  the  great  operations  of  com- 
merce, even  in  spite  of  all  laws  to  the  contrary ; 
because  without  it  business  would  not  be  done 
at  all. 

As  to  copper  money,  or  that  of  billion,*  wher- 
ever there  is  one  of  silver  it  is  not  real  money.  It 
is  a  false  one.  If  it  contained  a  sufficient  quantity 
of  copper  to  be  really  worth  the  quantity  of  silver 
to  which  it  is  made  to  correspond,  it  would  be  five 
or  six  times  as  heavy  as  it  is,  which  would  render 
it  very  inconvenient.  Still  this  proportion  would 
vary  as  that  of  gold,  and  more  frequently,  because 
of  the  more  numerous  uses  for  which  copper  is  em- 
ployed. Thus  copper  money  is  worth  but  the  quan- 
tity of  silver  agreed  to  be  given  in  barter  for  it. — 
Accordingly  it  ought  only  to  serve  for  the  facilita- 
tion of  small  fractions,  in  which  this  exaggeration  of 
its  value  would  be  of  no  importance  ;  because  the 
moment  after  it  is  paid  away  at  the  same  rate,  in 
making  it  fulfill  the  same  function.  But  when,  as 
has  happened  sometimes,  the  payment  of  large  sums 
of  money  with  copper  is  authorized,  it  greatly  wrongs 
him  who  receives  it ;  as  he  can  never  find  an  oppor- 
tunity of  realising  by  agreement  such  large  masses 

*  Billion  is  a  mixture  of  a  great  deal  of  copper,  and  so  little  sil- 
ver, that  the  extraction  of  the  latter  would  not  be  worth  the  expense. 


81 

at  their  nominal  value ;  but  only  at  their  real  value, 
which  is  five  or  six  times  less.  Let  us  conclude, 
then,  that  there  can  never  he  but  one  metal  which 
may  be  the  common  term  of  comparison,  to  which 
may  be  referred  all  values ;  and  that  this  metal  is 
silver. 

Since  the  utility  of  the  impression,  which  makes 
of  a  morsel  of  metal,  a  piece  of  money,  consists  in 
the  establishment  of  its  standard  and  weight,  we  see 
further  that  it  was  very  superfluous  to  invent,  for  the 
keeping  of  accounts,  imaginary  monies,  si*ch  as 
livres,  sous,  and  deniers,  and  others  of  this  kind, 
which  however  are  called  money  of  account.*  It 
would  have  been  much  clearer  to  say  a  piece  of  one 
ounce,  of  half  an  ounce,  of  a  drachm,  of  a  grain  o£ 
silver;  than  a  piece  of  six  livres,  of  three  livres  ;  of 
twelve  or  of  fifteen  sous  :  We  should  have  always 
known  the  quantity  of  silver  of  which  we  wished  to 
speak.  This  idea  presents  itself  so  naturally,  that 
I  am  induced  to  believe  it  would  have  prevailed,  if 
all  monies  had  been  of  the  same  standard :  But,  as 
their  degree  of  purity  has  always  been  very  differ- 
ent, the  wish  perhaps  has  been  to  have  a  mean  of 
expressing  that  such  an  ounce  of  silver  was  worth 
a  sixth  more  than  such  another,  in  saying  that  the 
one  is  worth  six  livres,  and  the  other  five.  Per- 
haps, also,  the  expression  of  which  I  speak  has  been 
rejected  precisely  because  it  was  too  clear:  For 
those  who  have  participated  in  these  matters,  have 
always  wished  that  others  should  understand 

*  Several  of  these  denominations  have  been  originally  names  of 
real  monies,  a    Louis,  Crqwns  and  Ducats. 


82 

nothing  of  them,  and  they  have  their  good  reasons 
for  it.     We  shall  see  many  proofs  of  it. 

However  this  may  be,  these  arbitrary  denomina- 
tions being  once  admitted  and  employed  in  all  the 
obligations  contracted,  we  should  take  great  care  to 
make  no  change  of  them;  for  when  I  have  received 
thirty  thousand  livres  and  have  promised  to  repay 
them  at  a  certain  time,  if,  in  the  interval,  the  gov- 
ernment says  that  the  quantity  of  silver  which  was 
called  three  livres  shall  be  called  six,  or  which  is  the 
same  thing,  if  it  makes  crowns  of  six  livres,  which  do 
not  contain  more  silver  than  was  contained  in  the 
crowns  of  three,  I  who  pay  with  these  new  crowns  do 
not  really  return  but  the  half  of  what  I  had  receiv- 
ed. This  is  merely  an  accommodation  of  which  an 
^  indebted  legislator  wishes  to  avail  himself  with  his 
numerous  creditors ;  and  it  is  to  veil  and  disguise  it 
that  he  gives  me  such  an  advantage  with  mine,  and 
even  with  himself,  if  by  chance  I  am  his  debtor.  It 
is  true,  he  knows  well  that  he  has  none  ;  but  it  has 
an  air  of  generality  and  reciprocity  which  resembles 
equity  and  dazzles.  In  spite  of  this  deception,  let 
us  speak  plainly,  this  is  permitting  every  one  to 
rob  to  enable  himself  to  rob  ;  and  it  is,  as  we  must 
acknowledge,  what  almost  all  governments  have  so 
frequently  done  with  so  much  audacity  and  so  little 
moderation,  that,  for  example,  what  is  now  called  in 
France  a  livre,  and  which  formerly  really  was  a 
pound  of  silver  of  twelve  ounces,  is  scarcely  one  out 
of  eighty-one  parts  thereof  at  present,  when  the 
mark  is  worth  fifty-four  livres ;  government,  then 
at  different  times  has  stolen  eighty  parts  out  of  eigh- 
ty-one which  it  owed ;  and  if  tjiere  still  exists  a 


83 

perpetual  annuity  of  one  livre,  established  in  those 
ancient  times  in  consideration  of  twenty  fivres  re- 
ceived, it  is  paid  at  present  with  one  part  out  of  eigh- 
ty-one of^what  was  originally  promised,  and  of  what 
is  honestly  due.  If  at  this  time  none  of  these  annui- 
ties remain,  it  is  because  they  have  been  successive- 
ly reimbursed  in  the  same  manner  as  interests  are  at 
present.  What  is  more  frightful  in  such  legal  ini- 
quity, is  that  it  is  not  merely  to  permit  injustice,  it 
is  to  enjoin  it,  to  enforce  it.  For,  except  in  rare 
circumstances,  an  individual  of  the  greatest  probi- 
ty is  obliged  to  avail  himself  of  the  odious  permis- 
sion given  him,  since,  every  one  using  it  against 
him,  he  would  soon  be  ruined,  and  even  insolvent. 
Thus  he  has  but  a  choice  between  two  bankrupt- 
cies, and  he  ou^ht  to  decide  in  favour  of  that  which 
/  ~ 

the  law  authorises. 

We  will  follow  no  farther  the  moral  effects  of  such 
laws  ;  this  is  not  the  place ;  and,  besides,  they  are 
sufficiently  sensible,  their  economical  effects  are 
these  :  First,  all  the  creditors,  who  are  reimbursed, 
are  suddenly  impoverished  ;  and  all  the  debtors, 
including  the  government,  are  enriched  by  their  loss- 
es. Tlujs  it  is  an  extraordinary  levy  of  mone  on 
a  single  class  of  citizens ;  which  is  even  very  une- 
qually apportioned  amonst  them,  and  is  further  aug- 
mented uselessly  by  the  whole  portion  which  goes  to 
the  profit  of  other  citizens,  who  find  themselves  in  a 
position  like  that  of  the  government,  whose  apparent 
interests  are  the  motives  of  the  measure. 

Secondly,  all  the  creditors  who  are  not  actually 
reimbursed  their  capitals  are  impoverished  in  like 
manner ;  because  their  rent  is  discharged  with  the 


same  nominal  value,  but  with  a  less  real  one.  Here 
the  thesis  changes  for  the  government.  It  is  of  the 
number  of  those  creditors  frustrated  in  the  whole  of 
what  it  receives  in  annual  imposts  ;  for  they  are 
paid  with  the  same  quantity  of  money,  but  with 
one-half  less  of  effective  silver,  if  it  has  diminished 
the  value  of  money  by  an  half.  In  truth,  as  it  has 
the  power  in  its  hands,  it  soon  doubles  the  existing 
imposts,  and  thus  thinks  itself  at  par  ;  and  that  it 
has  a  clear  gain  of  what  it  has  avoided  paying. 

However,  it  is  not  so ;  for  the  third  effect  of  this 
fine  operation  is  to  cause  a  fear  that  at  every  mo- 
ment it  may  recommence,  and  that  no  further  reli- 
ance can  be  had  in  plighted  faith  ;  to  excite  by  this 
mean  inquietude  in  all  relations,  and  eventually  to 
diminish  all  industrious  and  commercial  specula- 
tions. Thus  the  public  suffers,  national  riches  di- 
minish, and  a  great  part  of  the  imposts  become  in- 
effectual ;  for  the  labour  which  paid  them  is  decreas- 
ed, and  he  who  gains  nothing  can  contribute  no- 
thing. Moreover,  the  government  has  always  need 
of  being  furnished  with  many  supplies  and  advan- 
ces; which  it  cannot  exact  by  force.  The  price 
is  doubled,  if  the  value  of  the  money  is  diminished 
one-half.  This  is  quite  plain.  But,  besides,  every 
thing  has  become  dear  and  scarce;  and,  what  is 
more,  in  bargaining  it  is  made  likewise  to  pay  for 
the  fear  it  has  created  of  its  being  a  second  time 
wanting  in  good  faith.  Thus  its  expenses  are  aug- 
mented in  a  greater  proportion  than  its  revenues, 
even  after  it  has  doubled  the  imposts. 

In  last  result  it  has  committed  a  robbery,  which 
has  caused  to  itself  much  more  evil  than  it  has  pro- 


85 

duced  good.  Yet  it  is  this  which  for  a  long  time 
was  very  generally  regarded  as  a  wise  operation  of 
finance.  It  is  here,  then,  we  may  well  wonder  how 
men  are  the  dupes  of  words.  To  the  shame  of  the 
human  understanding,  it  would  perhaps  have  been, 
sufficient  to  preserve  it  from  such  an  illusion,  that 
the  pieces  of  money  should  have  been,  as  we  have 
said,  designated  solely  by  their  weight,  instead  of 
bearing  insignificant  names.  It  is  very  probable 
that  then  they  would  have  seen,  that  half  an  ounce 
could  never  become  an  ounce. 

Yet  in  truth,  this  becomes  doubtful,  when  we 
see  illusions,  more  gross  and  injurious  than  these, 
still  succeed  with  many  men,  or  at  least  be  only 
imperfectly  distinguished.  This  reflection  leads  us 
directly  to  paper  money,  with  which  Europe  is 
inundated  at  the  moment  in  which  we  are  speaking; 
(1810)  and  to  which  recourse  is  always  had,  in 
spite  of  the  constant  experienqe  of  its  inevitable 
effects. 

To  defend  an  injustice  it  is  always  necessary  to 
rest  it  on  an  error.  This  is  an  universal  rule. 
Those  who  have  wished  to  defraud  their  creditors 
of  a  part  of  the  money  they  owed  them,  by  dimin- 
ishing the  quantity  of  silver  contained  in  the  money 
with  which  they  expected  to  pay  them,  have  all 
pretended  that  silver  has  no  value  in  itself,  as  we 
cannot  drink  or  eat  it ;  that  it  is  but  the  sign  of 
of  real  values  ;  that  it  is  the  impression  of  the  mo- 
narch which  gives  it  the  quality  of  a  sign,  and  that 
it  is  indifferent  whether  it  be  put  on  a  greater  or  smal- 
er  quantity  of  metal.  One  might  answered  them,  if 
silver  has  no  value,  why  do  you  retain  that  which  you 


86 

owe  ?  You  have  no  occasion  for  it.  Give  it  to  us 
first,  then  yon  may  put  your  impression  on  pieces 
of  wood  if  you  please,  and  you  will  see  the  effect 
it  will  produce.  It  does  not  seem  necessary  to  be 
very  sharp  sighted  to  devise  this  overwhelming  an- 
swer. Yet  it  has  not  been  made  because  it  was  not 
so  easy  to  prove  directly  that  silver,  as  all  useful 
things,  has  a  proper  and  necessary  value  :  indeed, 
to  demonstrate  this  incontestably,  it  was  necessary 
to  remount,  as  we  have  done,  and  perhaps  as  has 
never  been  done  before,  to  the  first  and  only  cause 
of  all  value,  labour. 

This  foolish  notion  (we  must  call  things  by  their 
names)  that  money  is  but  a  sign  is  then  maintained, 
and  still  repeated  every  day.  Many  writers  give 
no  other  name  to  money;  and  persons  who  think 
themselves  historians  and  politicians  gravely  give 
you  an  account  of  the  system  of  law  and  discuss  it  at 
full  length,  without  perceiving,  after  a  hundred  years 
of  reflection,  that  it  is  solely  on  this  notion  it  wras 
founded,  and  that  all  the  rest  consists  but  in  acces- 
sories, imagined  to  mask  this  foundation.*  The 
notable  principle,  then,  of  which  we  are  speaking  is 
neither  abandoned  nor  proscribed.  If  they  no  lon- 
ger avail  themselves  of  it  to  degrade  the  coins,  it  is 
not  because  they  are  ashamed  of  it ;  it  is  because 
they  have  found  a  way  of  making  a  more  complete 
application  of  it.  For,  in  fact,  in  the  most  false  of 
coins  ;  there  remains  always  a  little  silver.  In  that 
which  is  now  substituted  for  it  there  is  not  any; 

*lt  is  for  tins  reason  that  Law  Mmself,  when  the  Abbey  Tcrrasson 
proposed  to  him  to  reimburse  the  Catholic  Church  with  his  paper,  an- 
swerecl — the  Roman  Clergy  are  not  such  fools. 


87 

this  is  still  better.  They  have  not  followed  the 
counsel  we  just  now  gave,  of  putting  the  stamp  of 
the  prince  on  pieces  of  wood ;  they  put  it  on  paper, 
and  this  amounts  to  the  same.  The  multiplied  re- 
lations of  perfected  society  have  suggested  this  idea 
and  likewise  serve  to  mask  the  fraud.  Let  us  ex- 
plain this. 

Paper,  like  every  thing  else,  has  no  necessary 
value,  hut  that  which  it  has  cost  to  fabricate  it;  and 
no  market  value,  but  its  price  in  the  shop  as  paper. 
When  I  hold  a  note,  or  an  obligation  of  any  kind, 
of  a  solvent  person,  to  pay  me  at  sight  an  hundred 
ounces  of  silver,  this  paper  has  only  the  real  value 
of  a  piece  of  paper.  It  has  not  that  of  the  hundred 
ounces  of  silver  which  it  promises  me.  It  is  for  me 
only  the  sign  that  I  shall  receive  these  hundred  oun- 
ces of  silver  when  I  wish  ;  in  truth,  when  this  sign 
is  of  an  indubitable  certainty,  I  am  not  anxious 
about  realizing  it.  1  may  even,  without  taking  this 
trouble,  pass  it  by  agreement  to  another  person,  who 
will  be  equally  tranquil  with  myself,  and  who  may 
even  prefer  the  sign  to  the  thing  signified  ;  because 
it  is  lighter  and  more  portable.  We  have  not  yet 
either  the  one  or  the  other  any  real  value,  (1  count 
for  nothing  that  of  the  piece  of  paper)  but  \ve  are  as 
sure  of  having  it  when  we  wish,  as  with  the  money 
we  are  sure  of  having  a  dinner  when  we  shall  be 
hungry.  It  is  this  that  induces  us  both  to  say. 
that  this  paper  is  the  same  thing  as  the  silver. — 
But  this  is  not  exact ;  for  the  paper  only  promises, 
and  the  silver  alone  is  the  value  itself. 

Proceeding  on  this  equivoque,  the  government 
comes  and  says,  you  all  agree  that  the  paper  of  a 


88 

rich  man  is  equal  to  silver.  Mine,  for  much  stron- 
ger reasons,  should  have  the  same  property,  for  I 
am  richer  than  any  individual;  and  moreover,  you 
agree  that  it  is  my  impression  alone  which  gives  to 
silver  the  quality  of  being  the  sign  of  all  values  ; 
my  signature  communicates  to  this  paper  the  same 
virtue.  Thus  it  is  in  all  respects  a  real  money.  By 
a  surplus  of  precaution,  they  do  not  want  inventions 
to  prove;  that  the  paper  about  to  be  emitted  really 
represents  immence  values.  It  is  hypothecated, 
sometimes  on  a  considerable  quantity  of  national 
domains,  sometimes  on  the  profits  of  a  commercial 
company,  which  are  to  have  prodigious  success  ; 
sometimes  on  a  sinking  fund,  which  cannot  fail  to 
produce  marvellous  effects  ;  sometimes  on  all  these 
together.  Urged  by  arguments  so  solid,  all  who 
hope  that  this  operation  will  enable  government  to 
grant  them  gifts,  and  all  its  actual  creditors,  who 
fear  that  without  this  expedient  they  will  not  be 
paid  at  all, — who  hope  to  have  this  paper  among 
the  first,  and  to  pass  it  away  very  soon,  before  it  is 
discredited  ;  and  who  moreover,  calculating  that  if 
they  lose  something  by  it,  they  may  amply  indem- 
nify themselves  by  subsequent  affairs, — do  not  fail 
to  say  they  are  fully  convinced  that  the  paper  is  ex- 
cellent; that  it  is  an  admirable  invention,  which  will 
secure  the  safety  of  the  state  ;  that  they  are  all  rea- 
dy to  take  it:  that  they  like  it  as  well  as  silver; 
that  their  only  embarrassment  would  be  if  they 
should  meet  with  persons  stubborn  and  distrustful, 
as  there  will  always  be,  who  would  not  be  willing 
tn  receive  it ;  that  to  prevent  this  inconvenience  it 
be  necessary  to  compel  every  body  to  do  as 


89 

they  do,  and  that  then  all  difficulties  will  have  van* 
ished.  The  public  itself — prejudiced  by  so  many 
sophisms.,  which  have  such  numerous  supporters,— 
at  first  relishes  the  measure,  then  desires  it,  and 
persuades  itself  that  one  must  be  absurd  or  evil  in- , 
tentioned  not  to  approve  it.  Thus  they  make  a  real 
paper  money,  that  is  to  say  a  paper  which  every  one 
has  a  right  to  give  and  is  obliged  to  take  as  good 
money ;  and  it  is  not  perceived  that  it  is  precisely 
the  force  they  employ  to  render  this  paper  better, 
which  radically  vitiates  it. 

In  effect  the  government,  which  has  only  created 
it  to  liberate  itself,  makes  in  the  first  place  enough 
to  extinguish  all  its  debts.  It  is  commanded  to  he 
received,  people  are  disposed  to  do  it;  it  circulates 
with  facility,  it  is  in  every  one's  hands  concurrently 
with  silver.  It  appears  even  at  first  to  increase  the 
activity  of  commerce,  by  multiplying  capitals. 
Moreover  it  is  only  employed  in  large  payments^ 
&nd  in  the  placing  of  funds.  Thus  the  daily  ser- 
vice and  that  infinite  multitude  of  small  exchanges 
which  constitute  the  habitual  march  of  society,  con- 
tinue as  usual,  and  every  body  is  satisfied. 

Afterwards  the  same  authority  uses  the  same 
mean  for  its  ordinary  expenses.  It  observes  neces- 
sarily less  economy,  conscious  of  resources  always 
ready.  It  embarks  in  enterprizes,  either  of  war, 
politics  or  administration,  of  which  it  would  not 
have  dared  to  think,  knowing  well  that  without  this 
facility  they  would  surpass  its  abilities.  The  paper 
is  then  greatly  multiplied.  The  contractors  for  the 
government  are  the  first  to  say  that  all  things  have 
grown  very  dear,  that  they  must  have  much  higher 
23 


90 

prices.  They  are  careful  hot  to  avow,  that  it  is  be- 
cause a  promise  is  not  silver,  and  that  the  promise 
begins  to  appear  doubtful.  They  attribute  this 
fact,  at  which  they  appear  surprised,  to  a  momenta- 
ry encumbrance,  which  it  will  be  easy  to  remove  by 
slackening  all  payments  except  their  own ;  to  the 
intrigues  of  a  party  of  mal-contents,  which  should 
be  suppressed  ;  to  the  jealousy  of  foreigners,  who 
will  only  deal  with  them  for  ready  money,  for  the 
objects  they  are  obliged  to  draw  from  them. — 
It  is  impossible  not  to  yield  to  such  good  reasons  : 
and,  above  all,  to  necessity.  The  expenses  are 
therefore  augmented  considerably,  and  the  paper 
likewise. 

People  receive  it  still  because  they  are  forced ; 
but  every  one  demands  much  more  of  it  for  the  same 
thing.  Soon  an  acknowledged  and  known  propor- 
tion is  established  between  paper  and  silver.  It 
becomes  so  disadvantageous  to  the  paper,  that  those 
who  live  on  salaries,  annuitants,  and  the  proprietors 
of  leased  estates,  who  are  paid  with  this  money  are 
greatly  aggrieved.  Salaries  are  augmented  parti- 
cularly those  of  the  officers  of  government;  which 
is  by  so  much  the  more  burthened;  the  others  suffer 
horribly.  At  this  epoch,  of  the  depreciation  of 
paper, ...  government  already  experiences  the  same 
loss  in  its  imposts  that  individuals  do  on  their  annu- 
ities and  rents.  This  embarrasses  it,  but  this  is 
not  the  moment  to  augment  the  public  burthens  It 
is  easy  to  create  paper  to  supply  the  deficiency  it 
experiences.  It  prefers  this  mean ;  hence  a  new 
cause  of  emission  and  depreciation. 


91 

The  difference  between  paper  ami  silver  encreas- 
ing  progressively,  no  one  ventures  to  give  any  cre- 
dit, or  to  make  any  loan ;  they  do  not  even  venture 
to  buy  in  order  to  sell  again ;  because  they  know 
not  at  what  price  they  may  be  able  to  resell;  all 
commerce  languishes.  The  proportion  or  rather 
the  disproportion  continually  increases;  it  arrives 
to  that  point  that  the  daily  transactions  for  things 
of  the  first  necessity,  and  which  require  only  small 
sums  paid  in  silver,  become  impossible — for  an  hun- 
dred francs  in  paper  would  be  given  rather  than 
twenty-five  in  silver;  and,  for  the  same  reason,  if 
you  owe  twelve  francs  nobody  will  give  you  the 
change  on  a  note  of  an  hundred.  There  is  univer- 
sal outcry  and  complaint.  Disputes  are  indetermi- 
nable, because  both  parties  are  right.  The  evil  is 
supposed  to  be  remedied  by  making  notes  for  the 
smallest  sums,  and  they  are  made,*  but  nothing  is 
gained  by  this,  for  from  this  moment  we  no  longer 
see  a  crown  ;  and  so  soon  as  the  most  usual  things 
are  paid  for  with  paper,  they  rise  to  a  price  propor- 
tioned to  the  discredit  of  the  paper,  that  is  to  say, 
to  such  that  nobody  can  afford  them.  The  public 
authority  is  then  inevitably  forced  to  rate  the  neces- 
saries of  life. 

Then  society  ceases  and  universal  brigandage 
begins.  All  is  fraud  or  punishment.  The  govern- 
ment lays  requisitions  every  where,  and  the  people 
plunder;  for  nothing  but  force  can  oblige  a  sale  at 
loss,  or  to  part  with  things  which  they  fear  soon  to 

*  We  have  seen  them  even  for  five  sous.  You  may  judge  whether 
it  be  possible  to  superintend  thero,  and  if  three-fourths  of  them  were 
not  false. 


want  themselves.  In  fact  a  general  want  takes 
place ;  for  no  one  makes  new  provisions,  or  new 
fabrications,  for  fear  of  suffering  new  spoliations, 
All  trades  are  abandoned.  There  is  no  longer  pos- 
sibility of  living  on  the  produce  of  regular  industry  : 
every  one  subsists  on  what  he  can  conceal,  or  on 
what  he  can  lay  his  hands,  as  in  an  enemy's  country. 
The  poorest  'die  in  crowds.  We  may  say  in  the 
strictest  sense,  that  society  is  dissolved ;  for  there  is 
no  longer  any  free  exchanges. 

Thqre  is  no  longer  any  necessity  for  small  notes, 
for  the  largest  hardly  suffice  for  the  smallest  sums. 
We  have  seen  three  thousand  livres  paid  for  a  pair 
of  shoes,  and  been  very  happy  to  obtain  them  in  se- 
cret at  this  price  ;  for  force  may  well  oblige  a  thing 
which  exists  to  be  given  for  nothing,  but  it  cannot 
oblige  it  to  be  made.  Having  reached  this  point, 
the  government  on  the  contrary  must  give  a  very 
high  nominal  value  to  every  piece  of  its  paper, — not 
merely  that  it  may  be  of  some  use,  but  that,  even  to 
itself  it  may  represent  a  little  more  real  value  than 
its  fabrication  has  cost.  This  is  the  reason  that  in 
France,  towards  the  last  of  the  existence  of  paper 
money,  government  thought  proper  to  make  man- 
dates, which  were  nothing  but  assignats  of  a  new 
form ;  but  to  which  was  attributed  a  value  an  hun- 
dred times  greater  than  that  of  the  others,  without 
which  they  would  not  have  paid  the  cost  of  making 
them.  Thus  the  process  reached  that  pass  that  a 
note  of  a  hundred  francs  in  assignats,  for  example, 
had  not  effectively  the  real  value  of  the  piece  of  pa- 
per on  which  it  was  written ;  and  it  would  have 
been  worth  more  for  him  who  received  it  if  blank, 


93 

or  rather  if  he  had  received  the  price  which  it  had 
cost.* 

Such  a  fact  appears  incredible;  yet  we  have  all 
witnessed  it,  and  it  clearly  proves  two  important 
truths  :  The  one,  that  when  we  endeavor  to  go  con- 
trary  to  the  nature  of  things,  we  are  inevitably  push- 
ed to  the  most  monstrous  extremities;  the  other, 
that  it  is  as  impossible  to  give  to  things  a  real  va- 
lue which  they  have  not,  as  to  take  from  them  the 
natural  and  necessary  value  which  they  have,  which 
consists,  (we  cannot  too  often  repeat  it)  in  the  Jaboiir 
which  their  production  has  cost. 

In  vain  would  it  be  said  that  paper  money, 
may  be  used,  without  being  abused  to  this  excess, 
constant  experience  proves  the  contrary ;  and,  inde- 
pendently  of  experience,  reason  demonstrates,  that 
once  abused,  we  are  forced  to  abuse  it  more ;  and 
that  it  is  not  made  money,  that  is  to  say  having  a 
forced  circulation,  but  on  purpose  to  be  abused. 
For  when  you  leave  it  to  a  free  course,  the  moment 
in  which  a  fear  that  you  cannot  fulfill  your  engage- 
ments occasions  an  unwillingness  to  receive  it,  in 
dicates  the  moment  in  which  effectively  you  begin  to 
form  engagements  beyond  your  resources,  that  is  to 
say  to  abuse  it ;  when  you  give  it  a  forced  currency, 
it  is  because  you  are  unwilling  to  be  warned  of  that 
moment,  and  are  determined  to  go  beyond  it,  that 
is  to  say  to  enter  into  engagements  which  you  can- 
not fulfill.  In  a  word  when  your  paper  is  good,  ii> 
is  useless  to  oblige  people  to  receive/it;  when  bad, 
it  is  iniquitous  and  absurd  to  force  it  to  be  received 

*It  is  true  that  these  mandats  were  the  end  of  all ;  that  they  lasted 
but  a  few  days ;  and  that  they  never  had  a  real  currency  :  for  no  fear 
<>f  punishment  could  determine  any  one  to  take  theirs  at  any  price.,. 


94 

as  good.  No  solid  answer  can  ever  be  given  to  this 
dilemma.  Mirabeau  bad  therefore  great  reason  to 
utter  the  celebrated  phrase,  which  he  too  much 
forgot  afterwards  :  All  paper  money  is  a  phrensy 
of  despotism  run  mad. 

We  have  seen  that  the  consequences  of  the  mad- 
ness are  still  more  fatal  than  those  of  the  debasement 
of  coins.  The  reason  is  simple.  This  debasement* 
when  not  repeated,  has  but  a  momentary  effect,  by 
which  many  suffer  as  by  a  hail  storm,  and  others 
profit  as  by  a  windfall ;  but  all  things  resume  quick- 
ly their  ordinary  course.  On  the  contrary,  the  gra- 
dual depreciation  of  paper  moneyed  uring  all  the. 
time  of  its  existence,  produces  the  effect  of  an  infi- 
nite number  of  successive  debasements  continued 
to  total  annihilation;  and  during  all  this  time,  no 
one  knowing  on  what  to  calculate,  the  progress  of 
society  is  completely  interverted.  Add  to  this,  that 
paper  is  made  to  much  larger  amounts  than  even 
bad  money  is  coined.  Thus  the  evil  is  still  much 
greater. 

Let  us  conclude,  that  paper  money  is  the  most 
culpable  and  most  fatal  of  all  fraudulent  bankrupt- 
cies ;  that  the  adulteration  of  metallic  monies  comes 
next;  and  that  when  a  government  is  sufficiently 
unfortunate  to  be  no  longer  able  to  pay  its  debts,  it 
can  do  nothing  better  than  declare  frankly  its  insol- 
vency, and  compound  faithfully  with  its  creditors, — 
as  an  imprudent  but  honest  merchant.  The  evil  is 
much  less ;  reputation  remains,  and  confidence  is 
soon  renewed — three  inestimable  advantages. — 
Wherever  there  is  candour,  and  probity,  there  is 
remedy  for  misfortune.  This  is  one  of  the  nuiner- 


95 

ous  points  at  which  economy  and  morality  are  join- 
ed: and  which  render  them  but  different  parts  of 
the  same  subject,  the  case  of  that  one  of  our  intel- 
lectual faculties  which  we  call  the  Will. 

After  having  thus  spoken  of  silver,  its  uses, 
Its  real  value,  of  the  danger  of  pretending  to  replace 
it  by  fictitious  values,  it  is  proper  to  turn  our  thoughts 
for  a  moment  to  what  is  called  the  interest  of  money. 
This  subject  like  many  others  would  be  very  sim- 
ple, if  endeavours  had  not  often  been  used  to  ob- 
scure it ;  and  if  it  had  never  been  treated  on,  but 
after  the  preliminaries  with  which  we  have  preced- 
ed it. 

Since  we  rent  horses,  coaches,  furniture,  houses, 
lands,  in  a  word  whatever  is  useful  and  has  a  value, 
we  may  well  rent  money  also — which  is  likewise 
useful,  has  a  value,  and  is  exchanged  every  day  for 
all  these  things.  This  rent  of  money  is  what  is 
called  interest.  It  is  as  legitimate  as  every  othe? 
rent.  It  ought  to  be  equally  free.  There  is  no 
more  reason  why  public  authority  should  determine 
its  rate,  than  that  of  the  lease  of  a  house  or  a  farm. 
This  principle  is  so  evident,  that  it  ought  never  to 
have  met  with  any  difficulty. 

There  is  nevertheless  what  is  called  legal  inter- 
est; it  is  that  which  tribunals  adjudge  in  judiciary 
cases,  in  cases  in  which  the  parties  have  not  been 
able  to  agree,  but  in  which  it  is  still  just  that  the 
debtor  should  pay  some  interest.  It  is  very  pro- 
per that  the  law  should  have  determined  it  before- 
hand. It  should  neither  be  too  high  nor  too  low ; 
not  too  high,  that  the  debtor  of  good  faith, — who 
wished  to  pay  his  debts,  but  has  been  prevented  by 


circumstances  not  depending  on  himself,— should 
not  be  aggrieved  for  having  been  obliged  to  detain 
his  money.     Not  too  low,  that  the  debtor  of  bad 
faith,  who  has  had  recourse  to  chicanery  to  defer 
payment,  may  not  gain  by  having  retained  the  dis- 
position of  his  funds.     In  a  word,  it  should  be  such 
that  neither  the  creditor  nor  the  debtor  should  be  in- 
jured.     For  this  purpose,  the  law  should  fix  it  as 
it  is  to  be  presumed  that  the  parties  would  have 
.agreed  on,  that  is  to  say  conformably  to  the  most  or- 
dinary rate  in  arialgous  circumstances.     But  once 
again  I  repeat  it,  this  legal  interest  should  be  of  no 
consideration,  whenever  the  parties  have  themselves 
been  able  to  make  their  agreements.  The  public  au- 
thority should  never  intervene  in  particular  trans- 
actions, but  to  ensure  their  execution,  and  to  lend 
its  support  to  the  fidelity  of  engagements. 

It  is  true  however,  that  -it  is  the  interest  of  society 
in  general,  that  the  interest  of  money  should  be  low. 
First,  because^  all  the  rents,  paid  by  industrious 
men  to  capitalists,  are  so  far  funds  taken  from  the 
laborious  class  for  the  profit  of  the  idle.  Secondly, 
because,  when  these  rents  are  high,  they  absorb  so 
large  a  part  of  the  profits  of  industrious  enterprises 
that  many  become  impossible.  Thirdly,  because 
the  higher  these  rents  are",  the  greater  the  number  of 
those  who  live  without  doing  any  thing.  But  all 
this  is  not  a  reason  for  government  to  fix  the  rate  of 
interest ;  for  we  have  already  seen  that  society  has 
absolutely  the  same  motives  for  desiring  that  the 
rents  of  land  should  be  at  a  low  rate;*  and  yet  no 

*  Agriculture  is  no  where  so  flourishing1  and  advancing-  as  in  those 
countries  where  the  rents  of  land  are  as  yet  nothing;  because  there 


97 

one  has  ever  proposed  to  declare  usurious,  and  illicit 
the  rents  of  farms  which  exceed  a  certain  price. 
Moreover,  to  fix  the  rate  of  interest  is  not  a  mean 
of  diminishing  it;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  only  in  some 
manner  to  invite  to  dissimulation :  for  the  l^jider  will 
always  require  the  most  he  ca»  get  for  the  enjoy- 
ment of  his  capital ;  and  he  will  also  be  indemnified  for 
the  risque  he  runs  in  eluding  an  imprudent  and  even 
an  unjust  law.  The  only  mean  of  diminishing  the 
price  of  the  interest  of  money  is  to  make  the  mass  of 
a  nation  rich,  that  thus  there  may  be  large  sums  to 
be  lent,  and  that  industrious  men  nevertheless  have 
little  need  of  borrowing. 

Instead  of  fixing  the  rate  of  interest,  we  might 
perhaps  extend  to  this  kind  of  convention  the  prin- 
ciple of  damage  for  more  than  the  half,  (lezion 
(Poutre  moitie)  which,  in  certain  cases,  authorises 
the  rescission  of  engagements;  but  the  application  of 

are  still  lands  belonging  to  nobody ;  for  then  all  the  produce  of  these 
lands  is  for  him  who  cultivates  them.  See  the  western  part  of  the 
United  States  of  America. 

This  should  teach  us  to  appreciate  the  sagacity  of  those  profound 
politicians,  who  pretend  that  it  is  highly  advantageous  to  a  nation 
that  its  landed  property  should  sell  very  high ;  because,  say  they, 
it  follows  that  its  soil,  which  is  a  large  part  of  its  capital,  has  a  great 
value.  They  have  no  doubts  on  the  subject. 

However  there  are  two  ways  of  understanding  the  expression,  very 
dear.  Do  they  wish  to  say,  that  it  is  desirable  that  land  should  be 
sold  high,  in  proportion  to  the  rent  which  may  be  drawn  from  it? 
that  is  true  ;  for  this  proves  that  the  interest  of  money  is  low,  and 
that  the  idle  take  but  little  from  the  laborer. 

But  do  they  wish  to  say  that  it  is  good  that  an  acre  of  land  should 
sell  dear  in  proportion  to  what  it  will  produce  ?  that  is  false ;  for  this 
price  is  so  much  taken  from  him  who  is  going  to  work  this  acre,  thus 
it  is  to  say,  that  it  is  advantageous  to  take  from  this  useful  man  apart 
of  his  means,  and  often  to  render  his  enterprize  impossible  by  aug- 
menting its  expenses.  Experience  and  reason  declare  equally  against 
this  mistake. 


98 

this  principle  would  often  be  very  embarrassing  in 
matters  of  loan  :  it  would  require  attention  to  many 
circumstances  of  difficult  estimate,  and  especially  to 
the  degree  of  risk  run  by  the  lender  in  parting  with 
his  fimdr.  At  least,  I  would  wish  in  this  supposi- 
tion for  still  stronger  reasons,  that  the  rents  of  land 
should  be  comprised  under  the  same  rule;  for  there 
is  no  risk  of  the  funds  being  carried  off.  But  I 
would  always  prefer  that  individuals  should  be 
left  entirely  free  in  their  conventions. 

To  finish  this  chapter  on  money,  and  all  that  has 
relation  to  it,  it  remains  for  us  to  say  a  word  on  ex- 
change and  on  banks.  These  are  two  very  distinct 
things  which  are  often  confounded;  let  us  examine 
them  separately. 

Exchange,  or  the  service  of  an  exchanger,  is  an 
operation  the  most  simple.  It  is  to  barter  money 
for  money  when  it  is  required.  It  is  only  necessary 
to  know  how  much  pure  gold  or  silver  is  contained 
by  each  of  the  two  to  render  the  same  quantity  h& 
receives,  and  to  take  a  stipulated  reward  for  the 
small  service  he  performs  ;  or  it  is  to  barter  ingots 
for  money.  This  is  still  exactly  the  same  thing.  It 
is  only  necessary  further  to  take  into  account  the 
small  increase  of  value  which  is  given  to  the  metal 
by  the  quality  of  money,  impressed  on  it  by  the 
effigy  or  seal  of  the  sovereign.  If  the  standard  va- 
lue of  metals  were  as  easy  to  be  established  as  their 
weights,  the  personal  interest,  the  most  inventive  in 
fishing  in  troubled  water,  could  not  throw  the  least 
obscurity  on  a  similar  transaction;  and,  notwith- 
standing this  small  difficulty  of  the  assay,  it  is  still  suf- 
ficiently clear  when  nothing  else  is  mingled  with  it, 


99 

because  the  two  things  to  he  exchanged  are  present. 
It  is  only  requisite  to  value  both  and  to  barter.  But 
the  operation  of  the  exchanger  is  often  complicated 
with  that  of  the  hanker.  Let  us  now  explain  this. 

The  fundion  of  the  banker  is  to  enable  you  to  re- 
ceive in  another  town,  the  mon'ey  which  you  deliver 
him  in  this  in  which  you  are.  In  this  he  renders  you 
a  service,  for  if  you  have  need  of  your  money  in  that 
other  town,  either  to  pay  debts  or  to  expend  there, 
you  must  send  or  carry  it  thither;  and  this  occasions 
expense  and  risque.  The  banker,  who  has  a  cor- 
respondent there,  gives  you  a  note  called  a  bill  of 
exchange,  in  virtue  of  which  the  correspondent  re- 
mits you  your  amount.  On  an  inverse  occasion,  the 
same  correspondent  gives  to  another  person  a  like 
Kill  of  exchange  on  your  banker;  thus  they  are  quits, 
and  they  have  obliged  two  persons ;  and,  as  every 
service  merits  a  reward,  they  have  retained  at  each 
time  for  their  recompense  a  stipulated  portion  of  the 
money  transported.  Such  is  the  service  and  the 
profit  of  a  banker. 

I  have  always  been  astonished  that  writers,  who 
have  given  long  dissertations  on  this  negotiation, 
who  know  its  utility,  who  have  exaggerated  its  im- 
portance, have  mistaken  the  increase  of  value,  which 
a  merchandise  receives  by  a  change  of  place;  and 
have  refused  the  quality  of  producer  to  the  merchant 
who  transports  it:  for  in  this  case,  which  is  the  most 
simple,  it  k  very  clear  that  when  you,  who  live  in 
Paris,  owe  an  hundred  francs  at  Marseilles,  you 
would  rather  give  your  banker  an  hundred  and  one 
francs,  than  to  carry  yourself  or  send  your  hundred 
francs  to  Marseilles  :  and,  reciprocally,  if  you  had 
there  an  hundred  francs,  you  would  rather  receive 


100 

ninety-nine  of  them  at  Paris  of  the  same  banker, 
than  go  to  Marseilles  and  receive  the  whole  amount. 
Merchandise  delivered  at  its  destination  has  then 
really  a  value  which  it  had  not  before ;  it  is  this 
which  engages  you  to  give  your  banker  a  recom- 
pence,  although  it  costs  him  nothing  to  render  yoa 
this  service. 

To  this  first  profit  he  commonly  adds  another. 
You  give  him  your  money  to  day,  the  bill  which  he 
gives  you  in  return  will  only  be  payable  in  fifteen 
or  twenty  days,  more  or  less ;  time  must  be  allowed 
for  its  arrival ;  the  correspondent  must  be  apprized: 
he  might  not  have  the  funds  5  pretexts  are  never 
wanting  to  lengthen  the  delay.  However  it  is  not 
till  the  day  of  payment  that  the  banker  credits  the 
sum  to  his  associate.  Thus,  during  all  the  interval, 
he  enjoys  your  money  gratuitously  and  can  put  it  to 
use ;  and  as  money  bears  an  interest  it  is  a  profit  suf- 
ficiently considerable  :  for  it  is  plain,  that  if  he  has 
successively  eighteen  or  twenty  similar  commissions ; 
he  has  gained  the  interest  of  the  sum  for  a  whole 
year. 

To  these  calculations  must  be  added  a  third. — 
when  many  Marseillese  are  indebted  to  the  Pari- 
sians, they  all  demand  bills  payable  at  Paris. — 
These  become  scarce  ;  the  bankers  may  be  embar- 
rassed in  furnishing  them,  their  correspondents  be- 
ing already  in  advance  with  them.  They  take  oc- 
casion hence  to  demand  of  you,  independent  of  their 
commission,  an  hundred  and  two  or  three  ounces  of 
silver  for  procuring  an  hundred  to  your  order  at  Pa- 
rk ;  and  you,  who  are  under  a  necessity  of  acquit- 
ting yourself,  will  give  it,  not  being  able  to  do  it 


101 

for  less.  For  a  contrary  reason,  if  Parisians  have 
at  the  same  time  need  of  bills  on  Marseilles,  the 
bankers  of  Paris  might  for  an  hundred  ounces  of 
silver  give  them  a  bill  for  an  hundred  and  two  or 
three  ounces,  since  this  is  the  price  put  on  them  at 
Marseilles.  But  as  they  alone  are  well  acquainted 
with  these  fluctuations,  they  always  combine  to  pre- 
vent the  individuals  from  the  whole  profit,  and  to 
throw  on  them  more  than  a  necessary  loss  ;  and 
this  is  a  new  source  of  profit  for  them. 

This  is  what  is  called — not  very  properly,  in  my 
opinion, — the  course  of  exchange  ;  and  what  ought 
rather,  as  I  think,  to  be  called  the  course  of  bank- 
ing :  for  these  two  cities  being  in  the  same  country, 
and  employing  the  same  money,  there  is  no  ex- 
change, but  merely  a  transportation  of  specie,  which 
is  the  proper  office  of  the  bank.  This  course  is 
said  to  be  at  par,  when  an  hundred  ounces  of  silver 
in  one  place  are  paid  with  an  hundred  in  another; 
and  that  it  is  high  or  low,  when  it  requires  more  or 
less,*  always  independently  of  the  banker's  com- 
mission. 

*  When  less  than  a  hundred  francs  are  sufficient  to  pay  an  hun- 
dred elsewhere,  it  is  said  that  the  exchange  is  low.  This  is  the  case 
with  the  city  which,  compensation  being  made,  still  remains  creditor, 
because  apparently  it  has  sent  to  the  other  more  merchandise  than 
it  has  received.  This  low  exchange  gives  it  an  advantage  in  impor- 
tation, for  it  can  pay  for  the  same  things  with  less  silver.  But  for 
the  same  reason  it  is  disadvantageous  if  it  continues  to  export,  for  it 
will  require  more  money  to  pay  them  for  the  same  quantity  of  mer- 
chandise. This  is  equivalent  to  a  rise  of  price,  and  diminishes  the 
demand. 

This  sole  consideration,  independently  of  many  others,  shows  how 
ridiculous  it  is  to  believe  that  a  country  can  always  and  constantly 
»\port  more  tbnn  it  import?.  It  -would  be  quickly  arrested  merely 


log 

The-  operation  of  exchange,  on  the  contrary,  min- 
gles itself  with  that  of  hanking,  and, complicates  it 
when  funds  are  to  he  transported  from  one  country 
to  another  :  for  the  sum  which  is  received  at  Paris, 
and  for  which  a  bill  is  given  on  London,  has  been 
deposited  in  French  money  and  will  be  paid  in  En- 
glish money.  We  must  ascertain  then  the  concor- 
dance of  these  two  monies,  and  determine  how 
much  pure  metal  is  contained  in  each,  according  to 
the  known  laws  of  their  fabrication.  We  must  es- 
timate too,  at  least  approximately,  what  the  pieces 
of  money  in  the  two  countries  may  have  lost  since 
they  have  been  in  circulation.  Hence  it  is  that  all 
other  things  being  equal,  less  is  demanded  to  pay 
the  same  sum  in  any  country,  when  the  money  is 
ancient,  and  has  consequently  suffered  much  waste 
by  use,  and  by  the  fraud  of  clippers,  than  when  it 
is  quite  new  and  untouched  :  for  in  the  latter  case 
it  contains  really  more  metal,  and  the  bearer  of  the 
bill  will  receive  more  for  the  same  sum.  This  ex- 
change is  yet  another  source  of  profit  for  the 
bankers. 

To  this  all  the  operations  of  exchange  and  bank- 
ing are  reduced,  which  as  we  see  are  very  simple, 
and  would  be  very  clear  if  all  coins  bore  the  name 
of  their  weight  and  the  mark  of  their  standard 
value  ;  and  if  pedantry  and  charlatanism  had  not 
concealed  and  disguised  notions  so  common,  under 
a  multitude  of  barbarous  names  and  cant  terms, 
such  as  the  initiated  alone  can  understand. 

by  the  course  of  exchange.  But  we  are  not  yet  come  to  the  exami- 
nation of  the  reveries  on  the  pretended  balance  of  commerce  ;  it  suf- 
fices to  have  made  this  observation. 


103 

Bankers  render  yet  another  kind  of  service. — 
When  the  bearer  of  a  bill  of  exchange,  not  yet  due, 
has  need  of  money,  they  advance  it  to  him,  retain- 
ing the  interest  of  the  sum  for  the  time  remaining 
before  the  day  of  payment.  This  is  called  dis- 
count. Sometimes  they  receive  from  an  individual 
effects  not  demandable  other  than  bills  of  exchange; 
as  bills  of  credit  of  long  terms,  title  papers  of  pro- 
perty, and  hypothecations  on  land;  and  guaran- 
teed by  these  securities  they  advance  money  to  him, 
making  him  pay  an  interest  higher  or  lower.  At 
other  times,  knowing  a  man  to  be  solvent,  they 
give  him  for  a  retribution  a  credit  on  them  for  a 
determinate  sum;  and  they  make  themselves  the 
agents  of  all  his  business,  undertake  to  collect  all 
his  credits  and  to  pay  all  his  debts.  These  are  so 
many  ways  of  being  useful ;  but  in  all  these  cases 
they  are  essentially  lenders  and  agents  for  business, 
and  not  properly  bankers,  although  bank  services 
are  mingled  with  these  operations.  All  this,  never- 
theless, is  ordinarily  comprehended  under  the  namefc 
of  banks  of  discount,  accommodation,  credit,  circu- 
lation, &c. 

All  these  bankers,  exchangers,  agents,  lenders, 
discounters,  at  least  the  richest  and  most  accredited 
amongst  them,  have  a  strong  tendency  to  unite  them- 
selves into  large  companies.  Their  ordinary  pre- 
text is,  that  transacting  thus  much  more  business 
they  may  be  content  with  a  smaller  profit  on  each, 
and  perform  all  the  services  on  much  better  terms ; 
but  this  pretextis  illusory — for  if  they  transact  more 
business  they  employ  more  funds,  and  surely  it  is 
not  their  intention  that  every  part  of  their  funds 


should  yield  tliein  a  smaller  profit.  The  truth  is, 
that,  on  the  contrary,  they  wish,  by  getting  almost 
all  the  business  into  their  own  hands,  to  avoid  com- 
petition, and  make  greater  profits  without  any  obsta- 
cle. Government,  on  their  part,  are  much  disposed 
to  favor  the  establishment  of  these  large  companies, 
and  to  give  them  privileges  to  the  detriment  of  therr 
rivals,  and  of  the  public,  with  the  expectation  of  re- 
ceiving from  them  loans,  either  gratuitous  or  at  a 
low  rate  which  these  never  refuse.  It  is  thas  that 
the  one  sells  its  protection  and  the  other  buys  it; 
and  this  is  already  a  very  great  evil. 

But  these  companies  are  of  a  much  greater  incon- 
venience. They  emit  bills  payable  at  sight,  bear- 
ing no  interest,  which  they  give  for  ready  money. 
All  those  who  depend  on  them,  or  are  connected 
with  them,  (and  they  are  very  numerous)  take  their 
notes  with  eagerness  and  offer  them  to  others.  The 
public  even  which  has  great  confidence  in  their  sol- 
vency  receives  them  willingly  as  very  convenient. 
Thus  they  spread  with  facility,  and  are  multiplied 
extremely.  The  company  reaps  in  this  an  enormous 
gai%  because  the  whole  sum  represented  by  these 
bills  has  cost  it  nothing  but  the  fabrication  of  its  pa- 
per, and  yield  it  a  profit  as  ready  money.  Howe- 
ver this  is  not  yet  an  inconvenience,  because  these 
bills  are  always  realized  the  moment  they  are  de- 
manded. 

But  soon  the  government,  which  has  created  it  but 
for  this  purpose,  asks  of  this  company  enormous 
loans  ;  it  dares  not  and  cannot  refuse  them,  because 
it  depends  on  government  to  overthrow  it  by  with- 
drawing its  support  for  a  moment.  To  satisfy  this 


105 

demand,  »  obliged  to  create  an  excessive  quantity 
of  new  notes ;  it  delivers  them  to  the  government, 
which  employs  them  very  quickly  ;  the  circulation 
is  overdone  with  them  ;  inquietude  follows,  every 
one  wishes  to  realise  them.  It  is  evidently  impos, 
sible,  unless  government  repays  that  which  it  has 
borrowed  ;  and  this  it  does  not  do.  The  company 
can  then  but  invoke  its  support.  It  asks  to  be  au- 
thorized not  to  pay  its  notes,  and  to  give  them  a 
forced  circulation.  It  obtains  its  request,  and  soci- 
ety finds  itself  in  the  full  state  of  paper  money,  of 
which  we  have  seen  the  consequences.  It  is  thus 
that  the  *caisse  d'escompte  produced  the  assignats 
in  France.  It  is  thus  that  the  bank  of  London  has 
brought  England  to  the  same  state  in  which  it  is  at 
this  moment.  It  is  thus  all  privileged  companies 
end  :  they  are  radically  vicious  ;  and  every  thing 
essentially  bad  always  terminates  badly,  notwith- 
standing its  transient  successes  ;  all  things  hang  to- 
gether, and  necessity  is  invincible.  It  \vould  be 
easy  to  show  that  were  these  great  machines  so  so- 
phisticated not  to  produce  the  horrible  danger  which 
we  have  just  described,  the  advantages  promised  by 
them  would  be  illusory  or  very  inconsiderable,  and 
could  add  but  very  little  to  the  mass  of  national 
industry  and  wealth.  But  it  is  not  necessary  to 
enter  now  into  details  ;  it  suffices  for  us  to  have 
seen  in  a  general  manner  the  progression  of  affairs. 
Before  going  further,  let  us  look  back  on  the  road 
over  which  we  have  travelled. — it  is  the  mean  of 
not  going  wrong  as  we  advance. 

*  A  bank  existing  at  P:;ris  at  the  commencement  of  the  revolution 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Reflections  on  what  precedes. 

MANY  readers  will  perhaps  imagine  that,. so  far, 
I  have  followed  rather  a  whimsical  course  ;  that  I 
have  often  ascended  very  high  to  establish  truths 
very  common ;  that  I  have  disposed  my  chapters  in 
an  order  which  does  not  appear  methodical ;  and, 
above  all,  that  I  have  abandoned  the  subjects  which 
I  have  treated  without  giving  them  all  the  develope- 
ments  of  which  they  are  susceptible.  But  I  pray 
them  to  remark,  that  this  is  not  a  mere  treatise  on 
political  economy.  It  is  the  second  section  of  a 
treatise  on  our  intellectual  faculties.  It  is  a  trea- 
tise on  the  will,  forming  a  sequel  to  a  treatise  on 
the  understanding.  My  intention  is  much  less  to 
exhaust  all  the  details  of  the  moral  sciences,  than 
to  see  how  they  are  derived  from  our  nature,  and 
from  the  conditions  of  our  existence,  in  order  to 
detect  with  certainty  the  errors  which  may  have 
slidden  into  them  by  not  ascending  to  this  source 
of  all  we  are  and  all  we  know.  Now  to  execute 
such  a  design  it  is  not  the  abundance  of  ideas  we 
are  to  seek,  but  their  severe  enchainment,  and  a 
course  uninterupted  and  without  chasms.  Still  how- 
ever I  am  persuaded  that,  without  perceiving  it,  we 
are  already  much  further  advanced  than  we  are 
aware. 


In  fact,  we  have  seen  that  the  property  of  being 
endowed  with  will,  by  giving  us  a  distinct  know- 
ledge of  our  individuality,  gives  us  thereby  and  ne- 
cessarily the  idea  of  property  ;  and  that  thus  pro- 
perty, with  all  its  consequences,  is  an  inevitable 
result  of  our  nature.  Here  then  is  already  a  great 
source  of  rambling  disquisition  and  of  declamation 
totally  drained. 

We  have  afterwards  seen  that  this  same  will, 
which  constitutes  all  our  wants,  is  the  cause  of  all 
our  means  of  providing  for  them  ;  that  the  employ- 
ment of  our  force,  which  it  directs,  is  the  only  pri- 
mitive riches  and  the  sole  principle  of  the  value  of 
whatever  has  one  for  us. 

Before  drawing  any  consequences  from  this  sc 
cond  observation,  wre  have  likewise  seen  that  the 
state  of  society  is  not  only  very  advantageous  to  us. 
but  is  also  so  natural  to  us  that  we  could  not  other- 
wise exist.  Here  then  is  another  subject  of  com- 
mon place  notions,  very  false,  exhausted. 

Uniting  these  two  points,  the  examination  of  the 
eftect  of  the  employment  of  our  force,  and  of  that  of 
the  increase  of  efficacy  given  to  it  by  a  state  of  soci- 
ety, has  enabled  us  to  discover  what  it  is  to  pro- 
duce for  beings  like  ourselves,  and  what  we  ought 
to  understand  by  this  word.  This,  also,  armihi 
lates  a  great  subject  of  ambiguity. 

Strengthened  by  these  premises,  after  some  elu 
delations  of  the  measure  of  utility  of  things,  it  was 
easy  for  us  to  conclude  that  all  our  industry  redu- 
ces itself  to  a  change  of  form  and  of  place,  and  con- 
sequently that  culture  is  a  fabrication  like  every 
other  5  which  dissipates  many  clouds  obscuring 


109 

this  subject ;  and  has  enabled  us  to  see  very  clearly 
the  progress  of  every  kind  of  industry,  its  interests, 
and  the  obstacles  opposed  to  them.  This  likewise 
leads  us  to  appreciate  both  men  and  things  very 
differently  from  what  is  commonly  done. 

Finally,  amongst  all  the  things  which  have  a 
value,  we  have  remarked  those  which  possess  the 
qualities  proper  for  becoming  money  ;  and  we  have 
easily  recognised  the  advantages  and  the  utility  of 
this  good  and  real  money,  and  the  danger  of  debas- 
ing it  and  of  replacing  it  by  another  entirely  ficti- 
tious and  false  in  continuation  ;  we  have  even  cast 
a  rapid  glance  on  the  small  operations,  commonly 
regarded  as  very  great,  to  which  the  exchange  of 
these  monies  and  their  economical  transportation, 
under  the  name  of  banking,  give  place. 

From  whence  it  follows,  if  1  am  not  mistaken, 
that  we  have  acquired  clear  and  certain  ideas  on  all 
the  important  circumstances  in  the  formation  of  our 
riches.  Nothing  then  remains  but  to  see  in  what 
manner  their  distribution  amongst  individuals  is 
effected,  and  in  what  manner  their  consumption  is 
effected,  that  is  to  say  the  use  we  make  of  them. 
We  shall  then  have  an  abridged  but  complete  ttea- 
tise  on  all  the  results  of  the  employment  of  our 
means  of  existence. 

This  second  part,  the  distribution  of  riches  in  so- 
ciety, is  perhaps  that  one  of  the  three  which  gives 
place  to  the  most  delicate  considerations,  and  in 
which  we  meet  with  phenomena  the  most  compli- 
cated. However,  if  we  have  well  elucidated  the 
first,  we  shall  see  the  obscurity  of  this  fly  before  us, 
and  all  dissipate  with  facility.  Let  us  endeavour 
to  follow  constantly  the  Hue  that  guides  us. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Of  the  distribution  of  our  Riches  amongst  indi- 
viduals. 

HITHERTO  we  have  considered  man  collectively ; 
it  remains  to  examine  him  distributively.  Under 
this  second  point  of  view  he  presents  an  aspect  ve- 
ry different  from  the  first.  The  human  species, 
taken  in  mass,  is  rich  and  powerful,  and  sees  a 
daily  increase  of  its  resources  and  its  means  of  ex- 
istence ;  but  it  is  not  so  with  individuals.  All  in 
their  quality  of  animated  beings  are  condemned  to 
suffer  and  to  die  :  All,  after  a  short  period  of  in- 
crease, should  they  even  live  through  it,  and  after 
some  momentary  successes,  should  they  obtain 
them,  relapse  and  decline  ;  and  the  most  fortunate 
amongst  them  can  do  little  more  than  diminish  their 
sufferings  and  retard  their  term.  Beyond  this  their 
industry  cannot  go.  It  is  not  useless  to  have  this 
gloomy  but  true  picture  of  our  condition  present  to 
our  minds.  It  will  teach  us  not  to  desire  impossi- 
bilities, and  not  to  consider  as  a  consequence  of  our 
faults  what  is  a  necessary  result  of  our  nature.  It 
brings  us  back  from  romance  to  history. 

There  is  more.  These  resources,  these  riches, 
so  insufficient  for  happiness,  are  also  very  unequally 
divided  amongst  us  ;  and  this  is  inevitable.  We 
have  seen  that  property  exists  in  nature  :  for  it  is 


112 

impossible  that  every  one  should  not  be,  the  proprie- 
tor of  his  individuality  and  of  his  faculties.  The  in 
equality  in  these  is  not  less  :  for  it  is  impossible  that 
all  individuals  should  be  alike,  and  have  the  same 
degree  of  force,  intelligence  and  happiness.  This 
natural  inequality  is  extended  and  manifested  in 
proportion  as  our  means  are  developed  and  diversi- 
fied. While  they  are  very  limited  it  is  less  strik- 
ing, but  it  exists.  It  is  an  error  not  to  have  recog- 
nised this  among  savage  nations.  With  them  par- 
ticularly it  is  very  grievous  :  for  it  is  that  of  force 
without  restraint. 

If,  to  banish  from  society  this  natural  inequality, 
we  undertake  to  disregard  natural  property,  and  op- 
pose ourselves  to  its  necessary  consequences,  ii 
would  be  in  vain  :  for  nothing  which  has  its  exis- 
tence in  nature  can  be  destroyed  by  art.  Such  con- 
ventions, if  they  were  practicable,  would  be  a  sla- 
very too  much  against  nature,  and  consequently  too 
insupportable  to  be  durable  ;  and  they  would  not 
accomplish  their  purposes.  During  their  continu- 
ance, we  should  see  as  many  quarrels  for  a  greater 
share  of  the  common  goods,  or  a  smaller  part  of 'the 
common  trouble,  as  can  exist  among %us  for  the  de- 
fence of  the  property  of  individuals  ;  and  the  only 
effect  of  such  an  order  of  things  would  be  to  esta- 
blish an  equality  of  misery  and  deprivation,  by  ex- 
tinguishing the  activity  of  personal  industry.  I 
know  all  they  tell  us  of  the  community  of  property 
with  the  Spartans  ;  but  I  reply  boldly  it  is  not  trtfe 
because  it  is  impossible.  I  know  well  that  at 
Sparta  the  rights  of  individuals  were  very  little  re- 
spected by  the  laws,  and  totally  violated  in  respect 


113 

to  slaves.  But  a  proof  that  nevertheless  they  still 
had  property,  is  that  there  were  thefts.  Oh!  tutors, 
what  contradictory  things  you  have  said,  without 
being  aware  of  it ! 

The  frequent  opposition  of  interest  among  us,  and 
the  inequality  of  means,  are  then  conditions  of  our 
nature,  as  are  sufferings  and  death.  I  do  not  con- 
ceive that  there  can  be  men  sufficiently  harbarous 
to  say  that  it  is  a  good  ;  nor  can  I  any  more  con- 
ceive, that  there  should  be  any  sufficiently  blind, 
to  believe  that  it  is  an  evitable  evil.  I  think  this 
evil  a  necessary  one,  and  that  we  must  submit  to 
it.  The  conclusion  which  I  should  draw  from  it 
(but  it  is  as  yet  premature)  is,  that  the  laws  should 
always  endeavour  to  protect  weakness;  while  too 
frequently  they  incline  to  favour  power.  The  rea 
son  is  easily  perceived. 

After  these  data,  society  should  have  for  its  ba- 
sis, the  free  disposition  of  the  faculties  of  the  indi- 
vidual,  and  the  guarantee  of  whatever  he  may  ac- 
quire by  their  means  ;  then  every  one  exerts  Jiim- 
self.  One  possesses  himself  of  a  field  by  cultivat- 
ing it,  another  builds  a  house,  a  third  invents  some 
useful  process,  another  manufactures,  another  trans- 
ports ;  all  make  exchanges  ;  the  most  skilful  gain, 
the  most  economical  amass.  One  of  the  conse- 
quences of  individual  property  is,  if  not  that  the 
possessor  may  dispose  of  it  according  to  his  will  af- 
ter death,  that  is  to  say  at  a  time  when  he  shall  no 
longer  have  any  will,  yet  at  least  that  the  law  de- 
termines in  a  general  manner  to  whom  it  shall 
pass  after  him ;  and  it  is  natural  that  it  should  be 
to  his  nearest  kindred.  Then  inheritance  becomes 


Ill 

a  new  mean  of  acquiring;  and  what  is  more,  or  ra- 
ther what  is  worse,  of  acquiring  without  labour. 
However,  so  long  as  society  has  not  occupied  all  the 
space  of  which  it  may  dispose,  all  still  prosper 
with  care ;  for  those  who  have  nothing  but  their 
hands,  and  who  do  not  find  a  sufficiently  advanta- 
geous employment  for  their  labour,  can  go  and 
possess  themselves  of  some  of  those  lands  which 
have  no  owners,  and  derive  from  them  a  profit  so 
much  the  iri^re  considerable,  as  they  are  not  oblig 
ed  to  lease  o^  buy  them.  Accordingly  care  is  ge- 
neral in  new  ahd  industrious  nations.  But  when 
once  all  the  country  is  filled,  when  there  no  longer 
remains  a  field,  wVch  belongs  to  nobody,  it  is  then 
that  pression  begin^.  Then  those  who  have  noth- 
ing in  advance,  or  who  have  too  little,  can  do  no 
otherwise  than  put  themselves  in  the  pay  of  those 
who  have  a  sufficiency.*  They  offer  their  laboui 
every  where,  it  falls  in  price.  This  does  not  yet 
prevent  them  from  begetting  children  and  multiply- 
ing  imprudently  ;  they  quickly  become  too  mime 
rous.  Then  it  is  only  the  most  skilful  and  the 
most  fortunate  among  them  who  can  succeed.  All 
those  whose  services  are  in  the  least  demand,  can 
no  longer  procure  for  themselves  but  a  subsistence 
the  most  strict,  always  uncertain,  and  often  insuffi- 
cient. They  become  almost  as  unhappy  as  if  they 
were  still  savages. 


*  Once  more  I  repeat,  that  hired  labourers  are  not  solely  in  the  pay 
of  the  proprietors  of  land,  but  in  that  of  all  those  who  have  capitah 
with  which  to  pay  their  wage? 


115 

It  is  this  class,  destitute  of  the  favours  of  fortune 
that  many  writers  on  economy  call  non  -proprietors  ; 
this  expression  is  vicious  in  several  respects.  First, 
there  are  no  non -proprietors,  if  by  that  we  under- 
stand men  entirely  without  the  right  of  property. 
Those  of  whom  we  speak  are  more  or  less  poor ; 
but  they  all  possess  something,  and  have  a  need  of 
preserving  it.  Were  they  but  proprietors  of  their 
individuality,  of  their  labour,  and  of  the  wages  of 
this  labour,  they  would  have  a  great  interest  that 
this  property  should  be  respected.  It  is  but  too  of- 
ten  violated,  in  many  of  the  regulations  made  by  men 
who  speak  of  nothing  but  property  and  justice. — 
When  a  thing  exists  in  nature,  no  one  is  without  in- 
terest in  it.  This  is  so  true  of  the  right  of  proper- 
ty, that  the  felon,  even,  who  is  about  to  be  punish- 
ed for  having  violated  it,  if  he  is  not  entirely  cut  off 
from  society,  has  an  interest  that  this  right  should 
be  respected  :  For  the  day  after  he  had  undergone 
his  punishment,  he  could  not  be  sure  of  any  thing 
that  remained  to  him,  if  property  were  not  pro- 
tected. 

Secondly,  the  same  writers,  in  opposition  to  the 
pretended  non-proprietors,  call  by  the  name  of 
proprietors  those  only  who  possess  estates  in  land. 
This  division  is  entirely  false,  and  presents  no 
meaning  ;  for  we  have  seen  that  a  lauded  estate  is 
but  a  capital  like  another,  like  the  sum  of  money 
which  it  has  cost,  like  every  other  effect  of  the  same 
value.  One  may  be  very  poor,  possessing  a  small 
field,  and  very  rich  without  possessing  an  inch  of 
land.  It  is  therefore  ridiculous  to  call  the  posses- 
sor of  a  poor  inclosure  a  proprietor,  and  to  refuse 


116 

this  title  to  a  millionary.  It  would  be  more  reasona- 
ble to  divide  society  into  poor  and  rich,  if  we  knew 
where  to  place  the  line  of  demarcation.  But  if  this 
division  were  less  arbitrary?  it  would  not  be  less  il- 
lusory in  relation  to  property.  For,  once  again  I 
repeat,  the  poor  man  has  as  much  interest  in  the 
preservation  of  what  he  has,  as  the  most  opulent. 

A  distinction  more  real  in  respect  to  the  differ- 
ence of  interests,  would  be  between  the  hirelings 
on  the  one  part,  and  those  who  employ  them  on  the 
other,  whether  consumers  or  undertakers.  The 
latter,  under  this  point  of  view,  may  be  regarded 
as  the  consumers  of  labour.  This  classification 
would,  without  doubt,  have  the  inconvenience  of 
uniting  together  things  very  different ;  as,  for  ex- 
ample, of  classing  among  the  hired,  a  minister  of 
state,  with  a  day-labourer,  and  of  placing  amongst 
consumers  the  smallest  master  workman  with  the 
richest  idler.  But  in  fine,  it  is  true  that  all  the 
hirelings  have  an  interest  in  being  paid  high,  and 
that  all  those  who  employ  them  have  an  interest  in 
paying  them  low.  It  is  true,  however,  that  the  un- 
dertaker who  has  an  interest  in  paying  little  to  the 
hired,  has  the  moment  after  an  interest  in  being 
paid  high  by  the  definitive  consumer;  and,  above 
all,  it  is  true,  that  we  are  all  more  or  less  consum- 
ers :  for  the  poorest  day  labourer  consumes  arti- 
cles produced  by  other  hired  persons  ;  on  which 
I  make  two  reflections. 

First,  the  interest  of  the  hired  being  that  of  a  ve- 
ry great  number,  and  the  interest  of  the  consumers 
being  that  of  all,  it  is  singular  enough  that  modern 
governments  should  be  always  ready  to  sacrifice 


117 

first  the  hired  to  the  undertakers,  in  shackling  those 
by  apprenticeships,  corporation  privileges,  and 
other  regulations;  and  afterwards  to  sacrifice  the 
consumers  to  these  same  undertakers,  by  granting 
to  these  privileges,  and  sometimes  even  monopolies. 
Secondly,  I  remark,  that  although  each  of  us 
has  particular  interests,  we  change  so  frequently 
our  parts  in  society,  that  often  we  have  under  one 
aspect  an  interest  contrary  to  that  which  we  have 
under  another,  so  that  we  find  ourselves  connected 
with  those  to  whom  we  were  opposed  the  moment 
before  ;  which  fortunately  prevents  us  from  form- 
ing groupes  constantly  enemies.  But,  above  all, 
I  observe  that  in  the  midst  of  all  these  momentary 
conflicts,  we  are  all  and  always  united  by  the  com- 
mon and  immutable  interests  of  proprietors  and 
consumers,  that  is  to  say,  that  we  have  all  and  al- 
ways an  interest,  first,  that  property  be  respected  ; 
secondly,  that  industry  should  be  perfected  ;  or,  in 
other  words,  that  fabrication  and  transportation 
should  be  in  the  best  state  possible.  These  truths 
are  useful,  to  comprehend  perfectly  the  workings  of 
society,  and  to  be  sensible  of  all  its  advantages. 

It  was  a  desire  of  rendering  them  evident  which 

* 

induced  me  to  enter  into  these  details.  Let  us  re- 
turn to  the  subject  of  the  distribution  of  riches, 
from  which  they  have  drawn  us.  although  they  are 

f  s  O  *> 

not  foreign  to  it. 

I  have  a  little  hastened  above  the  moment  in 
which  distress  begins  to  make  itself  felt  in  the  bosom 
of  new  societies,  by  fixing  it  at  the  instant  in  which 
all  land  has  a  master,  and  at  which  it  can  no  lon- 
ger he  procured,  without  being  bought  or  rented. — 


Certainly  at  this  epoch  a  great  mean  of  care  is  ex- 
hausted,  labour  loses  an  opportunity  of  employing 
itself  in  a  manner  extremely  advantageous,  and  the 
mass  of  subsistence  ceases  to  increase  as  rapidly  ; 
because  there  can  no  longer  be  a  question  of  estab- 
lishing new  cultures,  but  only  of  perfecting  the  old, 
a  thing  always  more  difficult  and  less  productive 
than  is  generally  believed.  However  immense  re- 
sources still  remain.  All  the  arts  offer  them  in  com- 
petition, especially  if  the  race  of  men  who  form  the 
new  society  have  sprung  from  an  industrious  and 
enlightened  nation,  and  if  it  has  relations  with 
other  civilized  countries  :  for  then  there  is  no  ques- 
tion about  inventing  and  discovering,  which  is  al- 
ways very  slow  ;  but  of  profiting  and  practising 
what  is  known,  which  is  always  very  easy. 

In  fact,  so  long  as  agriculture  offered  such  great 
advantages,  all  men  unemployed,  or  not  profitably 
enough  employed  to  their  liking,  have  turned  them- 
selves to  that.  They  have  only  thought  of  extract- 
ing productions  from  the  earth,  and  exporting  them. 
Observe  that  without  a  facility  of  exportation,  the 
progress  of  agriculture  would  have  been  much  less 
rapid,  but  with  this  circumstance,  it  has  employed 
all  hands.  Wages  excessively  high  have  scarcely 
been  able  to  determine  a  sufficient  number  of 
individuals  to  remain  attached  to  the  profession 
of  the  other  arts  the  most  necessary.  But  for 
all  those  things,  the  manufacture  of  which  has 
not  been  indispensable  within  the  country  itself  in 
which  they  are  consumed,  it  has  been  more  econo- 
mical to  draw  them  even  from  a  great  distance,  and 
they  have  not  failed  to  do  it !  Accordingly  the  com- 


119 

merce  of  these  infant  nations  consists  at  first  solely 
in  exporting  raw  products,  and  importing  manufac- 
tured articles. 

Now  what  happens  at  the  epoch  of  which  we  are 
speaking,  when  all  the  territory  is  occupied  ?  Agri- 
culture no  longer  offering  the  means  of  rapid  for- 
tune, the  men  who  have  been  devoted  to  it  spread 
into  the  other  professions  ;  they  offer  their  labour — 
they  obstruct  one  another — wages  lower  in  truth  : 
But  long  before  they  have  become  as  low  as  in  the 
countries  anciently  civilized  from  whence  manufac- 
tured articles  are  drawn,  there  begins  to  be  a  profit 
in  manufacturing  within  the  country  itself  the 
greater  part  of  these  articles  :  for  it  is  a  great  ad- 
vantage for  the  manufacturer  to  be  within  reach  of 
the  consumer,  and  not  to  fear  for  his  merchandise 
either  the  expenses  or  dangers  of  a  long  voyage, 
nor  the  inconveniences  which  result  either  from  the 
slowness  or  difficulty  of  the  communications ;  and 
this  advantage  is  more  than  sufficient  to  counterba- 
lance a  certain  degree  of  clearness  in  the  manufac- 
tory. Manufactories  then  of  every  kind  are  estab- 
lished. Several  of  them,  with  the  aid  of  some  fa* 
vourable  circumstances,  open  to  themselves  foreign 
markets  after  having  supplied  the  internal  con- 
sumption, and  give  birth  to  new  branches  of  com- 
merce. All  this  occupies  a  numerous  population, 
who  live  on  the  produce  of  the  soil,  which  then  is 
no  longer  exported  in  as  great  quantities,  because 
it  has  not  augmented  in  the  same  proportion.  This 
new  industry  is  for  a  long  time  increasing,  as  was 
agricultural  industry,  which  was  the  first  develop- 
tvd,  a«d  go  lone;  as  it  increases,  it  affords,  if  not 


riches,  at  least  ease  to  the  lower  classes  of  people.*' 
It  is  not  until  it  becomes  stationary  or  retrograde 
that  misery  begins,  because  all  lucrative  employ- 
ments being  filled,  without  a  possibility  of  creating 
new  ones,  there  is  every  where  more  labour  offered 
than  demanded.  Then  it  is  inevitable  that  the 
least  skilful  and  least  fortunate  among  the  labour- 
ers  should  find  no  employment,  or  receive  but  insuf- 
ficient wages  for  what  they  do.  Many  of  them 
necessarily  languish,  and  even  perish,  and  a  great 
number  of  wretched  must  constantly  exist.  Such 
is  the  sad  state  of  old  nations.  We  shall  soon  see 
from  what  causes  they  arrive  at  it  sooner  than  they 
ought,  and  by  what  means  it  might  to  a  certain 
point  be  remedied.  But  previously  some  explana- 
tions are  still  necessary. 

In  fact,  I  am  so  bold  as  to  believe  that  the  pic- 
ture which  I  have  just  traced,  of  the  progress  of  so- 
cieties from  their  birth,  presents  striking  truths. 
There  is  in  it  neither  a  system  made  at  pleasure, 
nor  a  theory  established  beforehand.  It  is  a  sim- 
ple exposition  of  facts.  Every  one  may  look  and 
see,  if  it  is  not  thus  they  present  themselves  to  the 
unprejudiced  eye.  It  may  even  be  observed  that  I 
have  represented  a  nation,  happily  situated,  enjoy- 
ing all  kinds  of  advantages,  and  making  good  use 

*  How  very  desirable  it  would  be  in  such  a  case,  that  the  superior 
class  of  society  should  be  sufficiently  enlightened  to  give  to  the  infe- 
rior ideas  completely  sound  of  the  social  order,  during-  this  happy 
and  necessarily  transient  period,  in  which  it  is  the  most  susceptible  of 
instruction.  If  the  United  States  of  America  do  not  profit  of  it. 
their  tranquility  and  even  safety  will  be  much  exposed,  when  interior 
and  exterior  obstacles,  and  inconveniences,  shall  have  multiplied. 
This  will  be  called  their  decline  and  corruption.  It  will  be  the  sk>\r 
>ut  necessary  effect  of  their  anterior  improvidence  and  carelessness. 


ef  them,  and  yet  we  come  to  this  painful  conclusion, 
that  its  state  of  full  prosperity  is  necessarily  tran- 
sient. To  account  for  a  phenomenon  so  afflicting,  it 
is  not  possible  to  stop  at  these  vague  words,  of  de- 
generation, of  corruption,  of  the  old  age  of  nations, 
(as  if  an  abstract  being  could  be  really  old  or  young 
like  a  living  individual,)  all  metaphorical  expres- 
sions, which  have  been  strangely  abused,  with 
which  we  have  often  been  satisfied  for  want  of  bet- 
ter, but  which  in  truth  explain  nothing,  and  which 
if  they  had  a  prevalence,  would  express  effects  ra- 
ther than  causes.  We  must  then  penetrate  further. 
Every  inevitable  event  has  its  cause  in  nature. 
The  cause  of  this  is  the  fecundity  of  the  human 
species.  Thus  it  is  necessary  to  consider  popula- 
tion ;  and  afterwards  we  will  resume  the  examina- 
tion of  the  distribution  of  our  riches. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Of  the  multiplication  of  Individuals,  or  of 
Population. 

LOVE  is  a  passion  which  so  violently  affects  our 
heads,  that  it  is  not  astonishing  we  should  often  be 
mistaken  on  all  its  effects.  I  acknowledge  I  no 
more  partake  of  the  zeal  of  the  moralists,  to  dimin- 
ish and  constrain  our  pleasures,  than  of  that  of  the 
politicians,  to  increase  our  fecundity  and  accelerate 
our  multiplication.  Each  appears  to  me  equally 
contrary  to  reason.  At  a  proper  time  I  may  de- 
velope  my  opinions  on  the  first  point,  at  present  the 
second  is  under  consideration.  Let  us  begin  by  es- 
tablishing facts,  by  taking  a  view  of  all  which  sur- 
rounds us. 

Under  this  relation,  as  under  every  other,  we 
see  nature  occupied  solely  with  the  species,  and 
not  at  all  with  the  individual.  Its  fecundity  is  such 
in  every  kind,  that  if  almost  the  totality  of  germs 
which  it  produces  were  not  abortive,  and  if  much 
the  greater  part  of  the  beings  brought  forth  did  not 
perish  almost  immediately  for  want  of  aliment,  in  a 
very  short  time  a  single  species  of  plants  would  suf- 
fice to  cover  the  whole  earth,  and  one  single  species 
of  animals  to  people  it  entirely.  The  human  spe- 
cies is  subjected  to  the  common  law,  though  perhaps 
in  a  smaller  degree  than  many  others.  Man  is  led 


to  reproduction,  by  the  most  violent  and  imperious 
of  his  inclinations.  A  man  and  a  woman,  having 
attained  ripe  age,  well  constituted,  and  surrounded 
with  the  means  of  providing  abundantly  for  all 
their  wants,  are  able  to  raise  many  more  children 
than  are  necessary  to  replace  themselves  on  the 
scene  of  the  world  ;  and,  if  their  career  is  not 
shortened  by  some  unforeseen  accident,  they  die 
surrounded  with  a  numerous  family,  which  conti- 
nues always  increasing.  Accordingly  the  human 
race,  when  circumstances  are  favourable,  multiplies 
very  rapidly,  The  United  States  of  North  Ame- 
rica furnish  a  proof  of  this,  their  whole  population 
doubling  in  twenty  years,  and  in  some  places  in  fif- 
teen, and  even  in  twelve  years  ;  and,  that  too  where 
the  emigration  is  almost  nothing,  and  witjiout  the 
fecundity  of  women  being  greater  there  than  else 
where.  And  it  is  also  to  be  remarked,  on  the  con 
trary  that,  whatever  be  the  cause,  cases  of  longc 
vity  are  rare  in  that  country,  so  that  the  mean  dura- 
tion  of  life  would  be  shorter  there  than  in  the 
greater  part  of  Europe,  without  the  great  number  of 
infants  who  perish  from  want  in  this  same  Europe. 
Here  is  an  incontestable  datum?  on  which  we  can 
rest. 

If  this  be  so,  why  then  is  population  stationary, 
and  sometimes  retrograde,  in  so  many  places,  even 
very  healthy  ones  ?  Here  we  must  recollect  the  dis- 
tinction we  have  already  established,  in  the  4th 
Chapter,  between  our  means  of  existence  and  our 
means  of  subsistence.  The  latter  are  the  alimen- 
tary matters  with  which  we  are  nourished ;  they 
are  the  most  necessary  part  of  our  means  of  exist 


ence,  but  they  are  only  a  part.  By  these  last  we 
are  to  understand,  all  which  contributes  to  defend 
us  against  all  the  dangers  and  all  the  sufferings  of 
every  kind ;  thus  they  consist  in  all  the  resources, 
whatever,  with  which  we  are  furnished  by  the  arts 
and  sciences,  that  is  to  say  by  the  entire  mass  of 
our  knowledge.  This  distinction,  well  understood, 
we  may  establish  as  a  general  thesis,  that  popula- 
tion is  always  proportioned  to  the  means  of  exist- 
ence ;  and  this  single  principle  will  give  us  an  ex- 
planation of  all  the  facts,  and  all  their  circum- 
stances. 

Amongst  savages  population  is  not  only  stationa- 
ry, but  little  numerous,  because  their  means  of  ex- 
istence are  very  slender.     Independently  of  their 
frequent  want  of  subsistence,  they  have  neither  the 
conveniences  sufficient,  nor  the  attentions  necessary 
for  raising  their  children  ;  accordingly  the  greater 
part  perish.     They  neither  know  how  to  defend 
themselves  against  the  severity  of  the  seasons,  nor 
the  insalubrity  of  the  climate  ;  nor  against  the  epi- 
demics which  frequently  carry  off  three-fourths  of  a 
population.     Having  no  sound  ideas  of  the  social 
state,  wars  are  continual  and  destructive,  vengeance 
atrocious  ;  their  women   and   old    men  are  often 
abandoned.     Thus  it  is  misfortune  and  suffering, 
amongst  them,  which  render  the  fecundity  of  the 
human  species  useless,  and  perhaps  diminishes  it 
Civilized  people  have  all  the  resources  which  arc 
wanting  to  the  others  ;  accordingly  their  population 
becomes  numerous  sooner  or  later ;  but  we  see  k 
stops    every  where,  when  it  has  attained  to  that 
point,  that  many  men  can  no  longer  pro/we  by  their 


labour  sufficient  wages  to  raise  their  children,  and 
conveniently  take  care  of  themselves.  If  in  general 
it  is  yet  a  little  progressive,  although  very  slowly 
in  the  actual  state  of  our  old  societies,  it  is  because 
the  arts  and  sciences,  and  particularly  the  social 
science,  being  constantly  cultivated  there  more  or 
less  perfectly,  their  progress  is  always  adding  from 
time  to  tiaie  some  little  facilities  to  the  means  of  liv- 
ing, and  open  some  new  vents  to  commerce  and  in- 
dustry. It  is  true  that  things  proceed  thus,  that 
when  from  some  causes,  natural  or  political,  great 
sources  of  profit  are  diminished  in  a  country,  pop- 
ulation immediately  becomes  retrograde;  and,  on  the 
contrary,  when  it  has  been  suddenly  diminished 
by  great  epidemics,  or  cruel  wars,  without  know- 
ledge having  suffered,  it  quickly  regains  its  level ; 
because  labour  being  more  in  demand,  and  better 
paid,  the  poor  have  more  means  of  preserving  their 
children  and  themselves. 

If  from  those  general  observations  we  pass  to  par 
lieular  facts,  we  shall  find  the  reason  for  them  with 
the  same  ease.  Let  us  take  Russia  for  the  first  ex- 
ample. I  do  not  pretend  to  make  either  eulogy  or 
satire  on  this  nation,  which  I  know  not :  But  we 
may  safely  affirm  that  it  is  not  more  skillful  than 
other  European  nations,  yet  it  ih  proved  that  its 
population  increases  more  rapidly  than  that  of  other 
states  of  Europe.  It  is  because  it  has  a  great  ex- 
tent of  land  ;  which  as  yet,  having  no  masters,  of- 
fers large  means  of  existence  to  those  who  go  or  are 
carried  thither :  and  if  this  immense  advantage 
does  not  Hi  ere  produce  a  multiplication  of  men  as 
rapid  as  in  the  United  States^  it  is  because  its  so 


127 

cial  organization  and  its  industry  are  far  from  being 
as  perfect.  Fertile  countries,  all  things  otherwise 
equal,  are  more  peopled  than  the  others,  and  easily 
repair  their  disasters,  because  their  land  furnishes 
great  means,  that  is  to  say  the  labour  applied  to 
the  land  is  there  fruitful.  Accordingly,  Lombardy 
and  Belgium,  so  often  ravaged,  are  always  flourish- 
ing. Poland  however,  which  is  very  fertile,  has 
a  small  population,  and  that  stationary  ;  because 
its  inhabitants  being  certs,  and  wretched,  have  in 
the  midst  of  abundance  very  slender  means  of  exis- 
tence. But  suppose  for  a  moment  the  small  num- 
ber of  men,  to  whom  these  cerfs  belong,  and  who 
devour  their  substance,  driven  from  the  country, 
and  the  land  become  the  property  of  those  who 
cultivate  it,  you  would  see  them  quickly  become  in- 
dustrious, and  multiply  rapidly.  Two  other  coun- 
tries, in  general  tolerably  good,  Westphalia  and 
even  Switzerland,  notwithstanding  the  latter  has 
wiser  laws,  have  small  population  through  want  of 
industry ;  while  Geneva,  Hamburgh,  and  all  Hol- 
land have  it  in  excess.  On  the  contrary,  Spain, 
which  is  a  delicious  country,  has  few  inhabitants  re- 
latively to  its  extent.  However  it  has  been  proved, 
that  for  the  forty  or  fifty  years,  which  preceded 
die  present  unhappy  war,  its  population  sensibly 
increased  ;  because  they  had  been  able  to  free  it's  in- 
dustry from  some  of  its  fetters,  and  in  some  degree  to 
increase  their  information.  It  is  then  well  proved, 
that  population  is  always  proportioned  to  the  means 
of  existence. 

This  truth  has  been  already  avowed  by  many  po- 
litical writers  ;  but  we  see  in  their  works,  that  they 


128 

have  not  perceived  all  its  extent.      M.  Say,  whom 
I  have  already  cited,  and  whom  I  may  frequently 
cite,  is  I  think  the  first  who  has  clearly  said,  in 
his  first  hook,  chap.   46,  "  That  nothing  can  in- 
"  crease  population  hut  what  favours  production  ; 
"  and  that  nothing  can  diminish  it,  at  least  perma- 
(<  nently,  hut  what  attacks  the  sources  of  produc- 
*(  tion."     And  observe  that  by  production  M.  Say 
understands  production  of  utility.     It  is  even  after 
him  that  I  have  given  this  idea  of  it.  Now  to  pro- 
duce in  this  sense,  is  clearly  to  add  to  our  means  of 
existence,  for  whatever  is  useful  to  us  is  a  mean  of 
providing  for  our  wants  ;    and  indeed  nothing  me- 
rits the  name  of  useful,  but  for  this  reason.     Thus 
the  principle  of  M.  Say  is  exactly  the  same  with 
that  which  I  have  established.     Accordingly  he 
draws  from  it  this  very  just  conclusion,  that  it  is 
absurd  to  attempt  to  influence  population  by  direct 
encouragements,  by  laws  concerning  marriages,  by 
premiums  granted  to  numerous  families,  &c.  &c. 
He  justly  laughs  on  this  subject  at,  the  famous  or- 
dinances of  Augustus,  of  Louis  XIV.  and  of  so 
many  other  legislators,  so  much  boasted  of.  These 
are  in  effect  very  false  measures,  which  could  in  no 
way   augment  population  ;  and  he  added,  very 
justly,  in  my  opinion,  that  the  smallest  regulation 
hurtful  to  industry,  made  by  these   princes  could 
and  must  have  diminished  the  number  of  men. 
I  think  ubsolutely  the  same. 

M.  Malthas  goes  much  further  still.     He  is,  at 
least  as  far  as  I  am  acquainted,  of  all  the  authors 
who  have  written  on  population,  the  one  who  has 
treated  the  subject  the  most  profoundly,  and  has- 


•developed  all  its  consequences*.  His  work,  singu- 
larly remarkable,  should  he  regarded  as  the  las* 
state  of  science  on  this  important  object,  and  lie 
leaves  almost  nothing  to  be  desired.  M.  Malt  bus 
does  not  limit  himself  to  prove,  that  though  pop- 
ulation is  arrested  at  different  degrees  in  different 
countries,  and  according  to  different  circumstances, 
it  is  always  and  every  where  as  great  as  it  can  be, 

bavins:  regard    to    the  means    of    existence — He 

~       ~ 

shows  that  always  in  civilised  nations  it  is  too  great 
for  the  happiness  of  man;  because  that  men,  and 
above  all  the  poor,  who  every  where  constitute  the 
great  number,  urged  by  the  stimulus  so  imperious 
to  reproduction,  always  multiply  imprudently  and 
without  foresight ;  and  plunge  themselves  into  in- 
evitable misery  by  a  multiplication  of  the  men, 
who  demand  occupation,  and  to  whom  none  can  be 
given.  All  he  advances  is  founded  not  only  on 
convincing  reasoning,  but  on  tables  of  deaths, 
births,  marriages,  of  the  mean  duration  of  life,  and 
of  the  total  population  collected  in  different  coun- 
tries and  discussed  with  care. 

1  add  this  latter  point  as  very  necessary  :  for  it  is 
to  be  observed  first  that  all  these  data  not  only  are 
often  inexact,  but  that  even  when  exact,  they  re- 
quire to  be  examined  attentively,  and  compared 
the  one  with  the  other,  with  much  sagacity,  before 
consequences  are  drawn  from  them  5  without  which 
they  would  lead  to  serious*  errors.  Secondly,  that 
however  imperfect  these  documents  may  be,  they 
exist  but  in  few  countries,  and  within  a  short  time 
only  ;  so  that  in  political  economy,  as  in  astronomy, 
we  should  calculate  very  little  on  ancient  and  dis- 
28 


130 

tant  observations.  Even  in  France  the  simple  re- 
gisters of  mortality  deserve  scarcely  any  confidence 
before  the  year  1700 ;  and  none  of  the  other  circum- 
stances have  been  collected.  Also,  in  the  exam- 
ples of  population  which  I  have  above  cited,  I  have 
made  no  mention  of  what  is  told  respecting  certain 
eastern  countries,  and  of  some  nations  antient  or  of 
the  middle  age^  If  China,  if  Spain,  in  the  time  of 
the  Romans,  are  or  were  as  populous  as  we  are 
told,  there  must  certainly  have  been  local  reasons 
for  the  fact.  But  we  have  no  means  of  knowing  it 

o 

sufficiently  to  see  the  causes  clearly,  and  to  venture 
to  draw  consequences.  It  is  the  same  case  with  all 
the  parts  of  the  political  and  domestic  economy  of 
the  ancients,  founded  almost  solely  on  the  practice 
of  slavery,  and  the  profits  or  losses  of  war,  and 
yery  little  on  the  free  and  peaceful  developement 
of  industry.  It  is  an  order  of  things  entirely  differ- 
ent from  our  modern  societies.  As  to  the  prodi 
gious  number  of  men  which  some  authors  pretend 
to  have  existed  in  France — for  example  under 
Charles  V.  or  under  Charles  the  IX.  in  the  four- 
teenth and  sixteenth  centuries,  that  is  to  say  at 
times  in  which  industry  was  as  unskilful  and  the 
social  order  as  bad  as  we  have  seen  it  in  Poland 
the  eighteenth  century — I  believe  the  only  answer 
to  be  made  to  these  assertions  is  that  which  I  have 
opposed  to  the  marvellous  union,  which  is  said  to 
have  reigned  at  Sparta. — That  is,  that  it  is  not  true 
because  it  is  not  possible. 

However  it  may  be,  all  those  who  have  reflected 
on  these  matters  agree,  that  population  is  always 
proportioned  to  the  means  of  existence.  M.  Say 


131 


concludes  therefrom,  with  reason,  that  it  is  absurd 
to  think  it  possible  to  augment  population  other- 
wise than  by  an  augmentation  of  these  means  ;  and 
Mr.  Malthus  proves  further,  that  it  is  barbarous  to 
endeavour  to  augment  this  population  always  too 
great*  and  the  excess  of  which  is  the  source  of  all 
miseries  ;  and  that,  even  in  relation  to  power,  the 
chiefs  of  nations  lose  by  it :  for  since  they  cannot 
continue  in  life  a  greater  number  of  men  than  they 
can  at  the  same  time  subsist,  by  multiplying  births 
they  only  multiply  premature  deaths,  and  augment 
the  number  of  children  in  proportion  to  that  of 
adults  ;  which  produces  a  weaker  population,  num- 
bers being  equal.  The  interest  of  men,  under 
every  consideration,  then  is  to  diminish  the  effects 
of  their  fecundity. 

I  will  say  no  more  on  the  subject,  which  is  but 
too  clear  of  itself  5  and  which  nevertheless  has 
given  occasion  to  such  false  opinions,  before  it  was 
thoroughly  explained.  We  leave  them  for  time  to 
destroy. 


BRA  H  \ 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

CALIFORNIA. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Consequences  and  developments  of  the  two  pre* 
ceding  chapters. 

Let  us  always  return  to  the  point  of  departure. 
An  animated  being,  and  especially  man,  is  endowed 
with  sensibility  and  activity,*  with  passion  and  ac- 
tion, that  is  to  say  with  wants  and  means.  While 
we  were  considering  the  manner  in  which  our  riches 
are  formed,  we  might  be  charmed  with  our  power 
and  the  extent  of  our  means ;  in  fact  these  are  suffi- 
cient to  render  the  species  prosperous,  and  give  it 
a  great  augmentation,  both  in  number  and  in  force. 
A  man  and  woman,  inept  and  scarcely  formed, 
might  end  by  covering  the  whole  earth  with  a  nu- 
merous and  industrious  population.  This  picture 
is  very  satisfactory ;  but  it  changes  essentially  its 
colour,  when,  from  the  examination  of  the  forma- 
tion of  our  riches,  we  pass  to  that  of  their  distribu- 
tion amongst  the  different  individuals.  There  we 
every  where  find  the  superiority  of  wants  over 
means  ;  the  weakness  of  the  individual,  and  his  in- 
evitable sufferings.  But  this  second  aspect  of  the 
same  object  ought  neither  to  disgust  nor  discourage 
us.  We  are  thus  formed — such  is  our  nature;  we 
must  submit,  and  make  the  most  we  can  of  it  by  a 
skilful  use  of  all  our  means,  and  by  avoiding  the 
faults  which  aggravate  our  evils. 

*  We  might  say  with  nerves  and  muscles,  for  it  goes  tt>  that. 


134 

The  two  chapters  which  we  have  just  read,  al- 
though very  short,  embrace  important  facts  ;  and, 
joined  to  prior  explanations,  give  notions  sufficiently 
certain  on  our  true  interests.  It  only  remains  to 
profit  of  them. 

We  have  seen,  that  we  must  be  satisfied  to  per- 
mit an  opposition  of  interests,  and  an  inequality  of 
means  to  exist  among  us  :  and  that  the  best  we  can 
do  is  to  leave  to  every  one  the  freest  employment  of 
his  faculties,  and  to  favour  their  entire  development. 
We  have  moreover  seen  that  this  employment  and 
development  of  faculties,  although  profiting  un^ 
equally  the  different  individuals,  succeeded  in  con- 
ducting all  to  the  highest  state  of  well-being  pos- 
sible, so  long  as  space,  the  greatest  of  all  resources, 
was  not  wanting;  and  that  when  all  the  land  is  occu- 
pied, other  subsidiary  resources  sufficed  to  support 
for  a  long  time  a  high  stat  e  of  general  prosperity. 

We  have  also  seen  that,  liaving  once  arrived  to 
the  period  of  being  crouded  and  constrained,  it 
is  inevitable  that  those  who  have  the  smallest 
means  will  be  able  to  procure  by  the  employment  of 
these  means,  but  a  bare  satisfaction  of  their  most 
urgent  wants. 

We  have  finally  seen  that,  tbe  multiplication  of 
men  continuing  in  all  the  classes  of  society,  the  su- 
perfluity of  the  first  has  been  successively  cast  into 
the  inferior  classes  ;  and  that  that  of  the  last  having 
no  longer  any  resource,  has  been  necessarily  des- 
troyed by  wretchedness.  It  is  this  which  causes 
the  stationary  and  even  retrograde  state  of  popula- 
tion, wherever  it  is  found,  in  spite  of  the  great 
fecundity  of  the  species. 


135 

This  latter  fact,  population  nearly  stationary  in 
all  nations  arrived  to  a  certain  degree  of  develop- 
ment, was  for  a  long  time  scarcely  remarked ;  be- 
cause it  is  but  lately,  tbat  we  have  begun  to  occupy 
ourselves  with  seme  success  on  social  economy.  It 
has  ever  been  concealed  by  political  commotions, 
which  have  produced  disturbers  of  it ;  and  has  been 
disguised  by  the  unfaithful  or  insufficient  monu- 
ments of  history,  which  have  authorized  mistakes. 
Finally,  when  it  has  been  sufficiently  observed  and 
established,  it  has  been  with  difficulty  attributed  to 
the  real  cause  ;  because  they  had  not  an  idea  suffi- 
ciently clear  of  the  progress  of  society,  and  of  the 
manner  in  which  its  riches  and  power  are  formed. 
At  this  day,  it  appears  to  me  we  are  able  to  put 
all  this  beyond  a  doubt. 

Let  us  recollect  that  society  is  divided  into  two 
great  classes,  that  of  men,  who,  without  having  any 
thing  in  advance,  work  for  wages — and  that  of 
men  who  employ  them.  This  granted,  it  is  evi- 
dent that  the  first — taken  in  mass — live,  daily  and 
yearly,  only  on  what  the  totality  of  the  second 
lias  to  distribute  to  them  every  day  and  every  year. 
Now  this  latter  class  is  of  two  kinds  :  the  one  lives 
on  their  revenue,  without  labour. 

These  are  the  lenders  of  money,  the  lessors  of 
lands  and  houses — and  in  a  word  the  annuitants  of 
every  kind.  It  is  very  clear  that  these  men,  in  the 
long  run,  cannot  give  more  in  a  year  to  those  they 
employ  than  the  amount  of  their  revenue,  or  they 
would  encroach  on  their  funds.  There  is  always 
a  certain  number  who  use  them  thus,  and  who 
ruin  themselves.  Their  consumption  diminishes 


or  ceases  ;  but  it  is  replaced  by  those  who  become 
enriched,  and  the  total  continues  the  same.  This 
is  but  a  change  of  hands,  of  which  even  the  or- 
dinary quantity  may  be  nearly  estimated  in  the  dif- 
ferent countries.  These  men,  taken  in  mass,  make 
no  profit ;  thus  the  sum  total  of  their  revenue,  which 
is  devided  amongst  the  hired,  is  a  constant  quantity. 
If  it  makes  some  insensible  progress,  it  can  only 
be  by  the  slow  improvement  in  agriculture ;  which., 
by  rendering  land  a  little  more  productive,  fur- 
Irishes  ground  for  a  small  augmentation  of  rents. 
For  as  to  the  hire  of  their  money  lent,  it  does  not 
vary.  If  ever  it  did  augment  by  a  rise  in  the  rate 
of  interest,  it  would  be  an  evil  which,  injuring  many 
enterprises,  would  diminish  much  more  the  faculties 
of  the  second  class,  who  feed  those  who  work  for 
wages. 

This  second  kind  of  persons  is  composed  s  of 
those  who  join  to  the  product  of  their  capital,  that 
of  their  personal  activity,  that  is  to  say  the  under- 
takers of  any  kind  of  industry  whatsoever.  It 
will  be  said  that  these  make  profits,  and  augment 
their  means  annually ;  but,  first,  this  is  not  true  of 
all.  Many  of  them  manage  their  affairs  badly,  and 
go  to  decay  instead  of  thriving.  Secondly,  those  who 
prosper,  cease  to  labour  after  a  certain  time,  and  go 
to  fill  the  void  which  is  daily  produced  in  the  class 
of  those  who  live  without  doing  any  thing,  by  the  fall 
of  spendthrifts  withdrawing  from  it  in  consequence 
of  having  badly  managed  their  fortunes.  Thirdly, 
in  fine,  and  this  is  decisive,  this  class  of  under- 
takers has  necessary  limits,  beyond  which  it  can- 
not go.  To  form  any  enterprize  whatever,  it  is  not 


137 

sufficient  to  have  the  desire  and  means :  it  is  neces- 
sary to  be  able  to  dispose  of  the  products  in  an  ad- 
vantageous manner,  which  more  than  defrays  the 
expenses  they  cost.  When  once  all  profitable  em- 
ployments are  filled,  no  new  ones  can  be  created, 
unless  others  fall,  at  least  unless  some  new  vents 
are  opened,  i  This  second  fund  for  the  support  of 
the  hired  class  is  also,  then,  in  our  ancient  societies, 
a  quantity  nearly  constant  like  the  first. 

Things  being  thus,  we  see  clearly  why  the  num- 
ber of  hired  does  not  augment,  when  the  funds  which 
might  provide  for  their  support,  cease  to  increase. 
It  is  because  all  who  are  born  beyond  the  re- 
quisite  number  perish  through  want  of  the  means 
of  existence.  This  is  very  easy  to  be  conceived* 
We  even  comprehend  that  it  is  impossible  for  it  to 
be  otherwise,  for  every  one  knows  that  if  four  per- 
sons are  daily  to  divide  a  loaf  of  bread,  barely 
sufficient  for  two,  the  weaker  will  perish,  and  the 
stronger  will  subsist  only  because  they  quickly 
inherit  the  portion  of  the  others. 

If  we  further  observe,  that  when  the  men  who 
Hve  solely  on  their  revenues  multiply  so  much  that 
this  revenue  suffices  for  them  no  longer,  they  re- 
turn into  the  class  of  those  who  join  their  labour  to 
the  product  of  their  funds  ;  that  is  to  say  of  those 
whom  we  have  called  undertakers — and  that  when 
these,  in  their  turn,  become  too  numerous,  many  are 
received  and  link  into  the  class  of  hirelings,  we 
shall  see  that  this  latter  class  receives  as  we  may 
say  the  too  great  plenitude  of  all  the  others ;  and 
that,  consequently,  the  limits  beyond  which  it  can- 
Eot  §o  are  those  of  the  total  production. 
89 


138 

This  single  'point,  well  elucidated,  gives  us  an 
explanation  of  all  the  phenomena  relative  to  po- 
pulation. It  shows  why  it  is  retrograde  in  one 
country,  stationary  in  another,  while  it  is  rapidly 
progressive  in  a  third ;  why  it  is  arrested  some- 
times sooner  sometimes  later,  according  to  the  de- 
gree of  intelligence  and  of  activity  of  different 
people,  and  the  nature  of  their  governments ;  why 
it  is  quickly  re-established  after  great  calamities  of 
a  transient  nature,  when  the  means  of  existence 
have  not  been-  destroyed ;  why,  on  the  contrary, 
without  any  violent  shock,  it  sometimes  languishes 
and  perishes  gradually,  from  causes  difficult  to  be 
perceived,  from  the  single  change  of  a  circumstance 
little  remarkable.  In  a  word,  it  gives  us  the  solu- 
tion of  all  the  questions  of  this  kind,  and  moreover 
furnishes  us  with  the  means  of  drawing  therefrom 
an  infinity  of  important  consequences.  I  am  only 
embarrassed  with  their  number,  and  the  choice  of 
those  which  I  ought  to  notice. 

I  will  commence  hy  remarking,  with  satisfaction, 
that  humanity?  justice  and  policy,  equally  require 
that  of  all  interests,  those  of  the  poor  should  always 
be  the  most  consulted,  and  the  most  constantly  res- 
pected ;  and  by  the  poor  I  mean  simple  hirelings, 
and  every  where  those  whose  labour  is  worst  paid. 

First,  humanity:  for  we  should  observe,  that 
when  it  respects  the  poor,  the  word  interest  has  quite 
a  different  degree  of  energy,  from  what  it  has  when 
men  are  spoken  of  whose  wants  are  less  urgent,  and 
sometimes  even  imaginary.  We  every  day  say,  that 
the  interests  of  one  minister  are  contrary  to  those  of 
another  5  that  such  a  body  has  interests  opposed  to 


139 

those  of  another  body  ;  that  it  is  the  interest  of  cer- 
tain undertakers,  that  the  raw  material  should  sell 
high  ;  and  the  interest  of  some  others  to  buy  them 
low.  And  we  often  espouse  these  motives  with 
warmth  as  if  they  were  worth  the  trouble.  Yet  this 
means  no  more  than  that  some  men  believe,  and  often, 
erroneously,  that  they  have  a  little  more  or  a  little 
less  enjoyment  under  some  circumstances  than 
under  others.  The  poor,  in  his  small  sphere,  has, 
assuredly,  also  interests  of  this  kind;  but  they  dis- 
appear before  greater  ones ;  we  only  do  not  per- 
ceive  them — and,  when  we  attend  to  him,  the 
question  is  almost  always  on  the  possibility  of  his 
existence  or  the  necessity  of  his  destruction,  that  is 
to  say  of  his  life  or  his  death.  Humanity  does  not 
permit  interests  of  this  kind  to  be  placed  in  the 
balance  with  simple  conveniences. 

Justice  is  equally  opposed  to  it ;  and,  moreover, 
it  obliges  us  to  take  into  consideration  the  number 
of  those  interested.  Now,  as  the  lowest  class  of  soci- 
ety is  every  where  much  the  most  numerous,  it  fol- 
lows, that  whenever  it  is  in  opposition  with  others, 
what  is  useful  to  it,  ought  always  to  be  preferred. 

Policy  leads  us  to  the  same  result :  for  it  is  well 
agreed,  that  it  is  useful  to  a  nation  to  be  numerous 
and  powerful.  Now  it  has  just  been  proved,  that 
the  .extent  to  which  the  lower  class  can  go,  is  that 
which  determines  the  limits  of  the  total  population ; 
and  it  is  not  less  so  by  the  experience  of  all  ages  and 
countries,  thai  wherever  this  lowest  class  is  too 
wretched,  there  is  neither  activity,  nor  industry,  nor 
knowledge,  nor  real  national  force — and  we  may 
even  say,  nor  interior  tranquillity  well  established. 


110 

This  granted,  let  us  examine  what  are  the  real 
interests  of  the  poor ;  and  we  shall  find  that,  effect- 
lally,  they  are  always  conformable  to  reason  and 
the  general  interest.  If  they  had  always  been 
studied  in  this  spirit,  we  should  have  acquired 
sounder  ideas  of  social  order,  and  we  would  not 
have  eternized  war — sometimes  secret,  sometimes 
declared — which  has  always  existed  between  the 
poor  and  the  rich.  Prejudices  produce  difficulties, 
reason  resolves  them. 

We  have  already  seen,  that  the  poor  are  as  much 
interested  in  the  maintenance  of  the  right  of  pro- 
perty as  the  most  opulent :  for  the  little  they  possess 
is  every  thing  for  them,  and  of  consequence  infinitely 
precious  in  their  eyes ;  and  they  are  sure  of  nothing, 
but  so  far  as  property  is  respected.  They  have 
still  another  reason  for  wishing  it ;  it  is  that  the 
funds  on  which  they  live,  the  sum  or  the  capitals  of 
those  who  employ  them,  is  considerably  diminished 
when  property  is  not  assured.  Thus  they  have  a 
direct  interest,  not  only  in  the  preservation  of  what 
they  possess,  but  also  in  the  preservation  of  what  is 
possessed  by  others.  Accordingly — notwithstand- 
ing that  from  the  fatal  effects  of  misery,  of  bad 
education,  of  the  want  of  delicacy,  and  of  a  sense 
of  injustice — it  would  perhaps  be  true  to  say^that 
it  is  in  the  lowest  class  that  most  crimes  are  commit- 
ted* it  is,  however,  also  true,  that  it  is  this  class 
which  has  the  highest  idea  of  the  right  of  property, 
and  in  which  the  name  of  thief  is  the  most  odious, 


*This  is  very  doubtful,  if  we  take  iuto  consideration  the  difference  in? 
the  number  of  individuals. 


But  when  you  speak  of  property,  comprehend  un. 
der  this  term,  as  the  poor  do,  personal  property,  as 
well  as  that  which  is  moveable  and  iramoveable. 
The  first  is  even  the  most  sacred,  since  it  is  the 
source  of  the  others.  Respect  that,  in  them,  as  you 
wish  they  should  respect,  in  you,  those  which  are 
derived  from  it ;  leave  to  him  the  free  disposition 
of  his  faculties,  and  of  their  employment,  as  you 
wish  him  to  leave  to  you  that  of  your  lands  and 
capitals.  This  rule  is  as  politic,  as  it  is  just  and 
unattended  to. 

After  the  free  disposition  of  his  labour,  the  great- 
est interest  of   the  poor  man  is  that  this  labour 
should  be  dearly  paid.     Against  this  I  hear  violent 
outcries.     All  the  superior  classes  of  society — and 
in  this  view  I  even  comprehend  the  smallest  chief 
of  a  workshop — desire  that  the  wages  should  be 
very  low,   in  order  that  they  may  procure  more 
labour  for  the  same  sum  of  money ;  and  they  desire  it 
with  so  much  fury,  that  when  they  can,  and  the  laws 
permit  them,  they  employ  even  violence  to  attain  this 
end, — and  they  prefer  the  labour  of  slaves,  or  serfs, 
because  it  is  still  at  a  lower  rate.     These  men  do 
not  fail  to  say,  and  persuade,  that  wh-u  they  think 
is  their  interest,  is  the  general  interest;  and  mat  the 
low  price  of  wages  is  absolutely  necessary  to  the  de- 
velopment of  industry,  to  the  extension  of  manu- 
factures and  commerce, — in  a  word,  to  the  property 
of  the  state.    Let  us  see  how  much  truth  there  is  in 
these  observations. 

I  know  it  would  be  disagreeable  that  the  price 
of  workmanship  should  be  so  dear  as  to  render  it 
economical  to  draw  from  abroad  all  transportable 


things  :  for  then  those  engaged  in  their  fabrication 
would  suffer,  and  would  become  extinct ;  it  would 
be  a  foreign  population  which  the  consumers  would 
pay,  and  support,  instead  of  a  national  one.  But, 
first,  this  degree  of  dearness  would  be  no  longer 
for  the  interest  of  the  poor,  since,  instead  of  being 
well  paid,  they  would  want  employment;  and, 
moreover,  it  is  impossible,  or  at  least  it  could  not 
continue  ;  because,  on  one  part,  the  hirelings  would 
lower  their  pretentious  so  soon  as  they  found  them, 
selves  out  of  employ ;  and,  on  the  other,  if  the  price 
of  a  days's  work  still  remained  so  high  as  to  afford 
them  a  great  degree  of  ease,  they  would  soon  mul- 
tiply sufficiently  to  be  obliged  to  offer  their  labour 
at  a  lower  rate.  I  add  that  if  nevertheless  the  price 
of  workmanship  should  still  remain  too  high,  it 
would  no  longer  be  to  the  scarcity  of  workmen 
that  it  ought  to  be  attributed,  but  to  unskilfulness 
and  bad  workmanship ;  and  then  it  would  be  the 
unskilfulness,  ignorance,  and  laziness,  of  men  which 
ought  to  be  combated.  These  are  effectually  the 
true  causes  of  the  languor  of  industry,  wherever  it 
is  remarked. 

But  where  are  these  sad  causes  met  with  ?  Is  it 
not  always  and  uniformly  there  where  the  lowest 
class  of  the  people  is  most  miserable  ?  This  fur- 
nishes  me  new  arms  against  those  who  believe  it  to 
be  so  useful,  that  labour  should  be  badly  paid.  I 
maintain  that  their  avidity  blinds  them.  Do  you 
wish  to  assure  yourselves  of  it  ?  Compare  the  two 
extremes,  St.  Domingo  and  the  United  States ;  or, 
rather,  if  you  wish  objects  nearer  together,  compare 
in  the  United  States,  the  northern  with  those  of  thr 


south.  The  first  furnish  only  very  common  articles  ; 
workmanship  is  there  at  a  rate  that  may  be  called 
excessive — yet  they  are  full  of  vigour  and  pros- 
perity, while  the  others  remain  in  langour  and 
stagnation,  although  they  are  adapted  to  produc- 
tions the  most  precious,  arid  that  they  employ  the 
species  of  labourers  the  worst  paid — namely  slaves. 
What  this  example  particularly  demonstrates 
we  see  in  all  times,  and  in  all  places ;  wherever 
the  lowest  class  of  society  is  too  wretched,  its 
extreme  misery,  and  its  abjectness — which  is  a 
consequence  of  it — is  the  death  of  industry,  and  the 
principle  of  infinite  evils,  even  to  its  oppressors. 
The  existence  of  slavery  among  ancient  nations 
should  be  regarded  as  the  source  of  their  principal 
errors  in  economy,  morality  and  politics,  and  the 
first  cause  of  their  continual  fluctuation  between 
anarchy,  turbulent,  and  often  ferocious  or  an  atro- 
cious tyranny.  The  slavery  of  the  negroes,  or 
aborigines  in  our  colonies,  which  had  so  many  means 
of  prosperity,  is  equally  the  cause  of  their  languor, 
their  weakness,  and  tbe  gross  vices  of  their  inhabi- 
tants. The  slavery  of  serfs  of  the  soil,  wherever  it 
has  existed,  has  equally  prevented  the  development 
of  all  industry,  of  all  sociability,  and  of  all  political 
strength  ;  and  even  in  our  own  days,  it  has  reduced 
Poland  to  such  a  state  of  weakness,  that  an  immense 
nation  existed  for  a  long  time  only  through  the 
jealousy  of  its  neighbors,  and  has  ended  by  seeing 
its  territory  divided  as  easily  as  a  private  patrimony, 
so  soon  as  the  pretenders  to  it  have  come  to  an 
agreement  among  themselves.  If  from  these  ex- 


frcme  cases — without  attending  to  the  fury  of  the 
rabble  in  France,  or  to  the  excesses  of  John  of  Ley- 
den  and  his  peasants  in  Germany, — we  come  to  the 
calamities  caused  by  the  populace  of  Holland,, 
excited  by  the  house  of  Orange :  to  the  disquietudes 
arriving  from  the  lazzarone  of  Naples,  the  trans- 
tibcrians  of  Rome  ;  and,  in  fine,  to  the  embarrass- 
ments which  even  at  this  moment  are  caused  in 
England,  by  the  enormity  of  the  poor  tax,  and  the 
immensity  of  its  wretched  population,  which  noth- 
ing but  punishments  can  restrain;  I  think  all  man- 
kind will  agree  that  when  a  considerable  portion 
of  society  is  in  a  state  of  too  great  suffering,  and 
consequently  too  much  brutalized,  there  is  neither 
repose  nor  safety,  nor  liberty,  possible  even  for 
the  powerful  and  rich  ;  and  that,  on  the  contrary, 
these  first  citizens  of  a  state  are  really  much  great- 
er, and  happier,  when  they  are  at  the  head  of  a 
people  enjoying  honest  ease,  which  developes  in 
them  all  their  intellectual  and  moral  faculties. 

On  the  whole,  I  do  not  pretend  to  conclude,  that 
the  poor  ought  to  employ  violence,  to  fix  the  price 
which  they  may  demand  for  their  labour.  We 
have  seen  that  their  first  interest  is  a  respect  for 
property ;  but  I  repeat  that  the  rich  ought  no  more 
to  fix  this  price  authoritatively,  that  it  ought  to 
leave  to  them  the  most  free  and  entire  disposition  of 
their  slender  means.  And  here  justice  also  pro- 
nounces in  their  favour ;  and  I  add,  that  they  ought 
to  rejoice  if  the  employment  of  their  means  procure 
them  an  honest  ease,  for  policy  proves  that  it  is  the 
general  good. 


115 

Observe,  also,  that  if  it  is  just  and  useful  to 
allow  every  man  to  dispose  of  his  labour,  it  is 
equally  so — and  for  the  same  reasons — to  allow  him 
to  choose  his  residence.  The  one  is  a  consequence 
of  the  other.  I  know  nothing  more  odious,  than 
to  prevent  a  man  from  emigrating  from  his  country,, 
who  is  there  so  wretched  as  to  wish  to  quit  it,  in  spite 
of  all  the  sentiments  of  nature,  and  the  whole  force 
of  habits,  which  bind  him  to  it.  It  is  moreover 
absurd  :  for  since  it  is  clearly  proved,  there  are  al- 
ways in  every  country  as  many  men  as  can  exist  in 
it  under  the  given  circumstances,  he  who  goes  away 
only  yields  his  place  to  another  who  would 
have  perished  if  he  had  remained.  To  wish  that 
he  should  remain,  is  as  if  two  men  being  inclosed 
in  a  box,  with  air  but  for  one,  it  should  be  wished 
that  one  or  both  should  be  smothered,  rather  than 
suffer  either  one  or  the  other  to  go  out.  Emigra- 
tion, far  from  being  an  evil,  is  never  a  sufficient 
succour ;  it  is  always  too  painful  to  resolve  on  it 
for  it  to  become  in  any  degree  considerable,  the 
vexations  must  be  frightful ;  and  even  then  the  void 
it  operates,  is  quickly  filled,  as  that  which  results 
from  great  epidemics.  In  these  unhappy  cases,  it 
is  the  sufferings  of  men  that  ought  to  be  regretted  ; 
and  not  the  diminution  of  their  number. 

As  to  immigration  L  say  nothing.  It  is  always 
useless,  and  even  hurtful,  unless  it  be  that  of  some 
men  who  Imng  new  knowledge.  But  then  it  is 
their  knowledge,  and  not  their  persons,  that  is  pre- 
cious; and  such  are  never  very  numerous.  We 
may  without  injustice  prohibit  immigration ;  and  it 
is  this  precisely  of  which  governments  have  never 

30 


146 

thought.     It  is  true  they  have  still  more  rarely  fur- 
nished  many  motives  for  desiring  it. 

After  sufficient  wages — which  is  of  first  import- 
ance  to  the  poor — the  next  is,  that  these  wages 
should  he  constant.  In  fact  it  is  not  a  momentary 
augmentation,  or  accidental  increase,  of  his  profits 
which  can  ameliorate  his  situation.  Improvidence 
is  one  arid  perhaps  the  greatest  of  his  evils.  An 
extravagant  consumption  always  destroys  quickly 
this  extraordinary  surplus  of  means,  or  an  indis- 
crete multiplication  divides  it  among  too  many. 
When  then  this  surplus  ceases,  those  wrho  lived  on 
it  perish,  or  those  who  enjoyed  it  must  restrict  them- 
selves ;  and  in  the  latter  case  it  is  never  the  con- 
sumptions least  useful  which  cease  first,  hecause 
these  are  the  most  seducing.  Then  misery  recom- 
mences in  all  its  horrors,  with  a  greater  degree  of 
intensity.  Thus  we  may  say,  in  general  terms, 
that  nothing  which  is  transient  is  really  useful  to 
the  poor ;  in  this  also  he  has  the  same  interests  as 
the  social  body. 

This  truth  excludes  many  false  political  combin- 
ations, particularly  if  we  join  with  it  this  other 
maxim  equally  true — that  nothing  forced  is  dura- 
ble. It  teaches  us,  also,  that  it  is  essential  to 
the  happiness  of  the  mass  of  a  nation,  that  the 
price  of  provisions  of  the  first  necessity  should  vary 
the  least  possible :  for  it  is  not  the  price  of  wages 
in  itself  that  is  important ;  it  is  their  price  com- 
pared with  that  of  the  things  necessary  for  life.  If 
for  two  sous  I  can  buy  bread  sufficient  for  the  day, 
I  am  better  nourished  than  if  I  were  to  receive  ten 
sous,  when  twelve  would  be  necessary  to  complete 


147 

my  daily  ration.     Now   we  have  before  shewn 
(Chap.  4th.    and  elsewhere)  that  the  rate  of  the 
lowest  wages  is  regulated,  and  cannot  fail  of  being 
regulated  in  the  long  run,  by  the  price  of  the  things 
necessary  to  existence.     If  the  price  of  necessaries 
suddenly  abates,  hirelings  without  doubt  profit  mo- 
mentarily ;  but  without  durable  utility  to  them,  as 
we  have  just  said.    This,  then,  is  not  desirable.    If, 
on  the  contrary,  this  price  augments,   it  is  much 
worse ;  and  the  evils  which  result  aggravate  each 
other.     First,  he  who  has  nothing  more  than  what  is 
necessary — has  nothing  to  spare  —thus  all  the  poor 
are  in  distress :  but,  moreover,  in  consequence  of 
this  distress,  they  make  extraordinary  efforts ;  they 
are  more  urgent  to  be  employed ;  or  in  other  words, 
they  offer  more  labour.     Other  persons  who  lived 
without  labour,  have  need  of  this  resource — there 
is  no  employment  for  them.     They  are  hurtful  to 
one  another  by  this  concurrence.     This  occasion  is 
taken  to  pay  them  less,  when  they  have  need  of 
being  better  paid.     Accordingly,   constant  expe- 
rience proves  that  in  times   of  want  wages  fall, 
because  there  are  more  workmen  than  can  be  em- 
ployed;  and  this  continues, till  a  return  of  abun- 
dance, or  till  they  perish. 

It  is  then  desirable  that  the  price  of  commodities, 
and  above  all  that  of  the  most  important,  should 
be  invariable.  When  we  shall  come  to  speak  of 
legislation,  we  shall  see — that  the  mean  of  making 
this  price  as  little  variable  as  possible,  is  to  leave 
the  most  entire  liberty  to  commerce ;  because 
the  activity  of  speculators,  and  their  competition, 
makes  them  eager  to  take  advantage  of  the  smallest 


148 

fall  to  buy,  and  the  smallest  rise  to  sell  again ;  and 
thus  they  prevent  either  the  one  or  the  other  from 
becoming  excessive.  This  method  is  also  the 
in  ost  conformable  with  a  respect  for  property,  for 
the  just  and  the  useful  are  always  united.  For 
the  present  let  us  limit  ourselves  to  our  conclusion, 
and  extend  it  to  other  objects. 

Sudden  variations,  in  certain  parts  of  industry  and 
commerce,  occasion — though  in  a  manner  less  gen- 
eral— the  same  effect  as  variations  in  the  price  of 
commodities.  When  any  branch  of  industry  what- 
ever takes  suddenly  a  rapid  increase,  there  is  a 
greater  demand  for  labour  than  in  ordinary : — a 
profit  here  results  to  the  labourers  ;  and  they  use  it 
as  all  other  momentary  profits,  that  is  to  say  badly. 
But  afterwards  should  this  industry  be  relaxed  or 
extinguished,  distress  arrives ;  every  one  must  seek 
resources.  In  truth  there  are  many  more  in  this 
case  than  in  that  of  a  dearness,  which  is  a  universal 
misfortune.  The  unoccupied  workmen  here  may 
go  elsewhere.  But  men  are  not  abstract  and  insen- 
sible beings.  Their  removals  are  not  made  with- 
out sufferings,  without  anguish,  without  breaking 
up  imperious  habits.  A  workman  is  never  so 
adapted  to  the  business  he  seeks  as  to  that  which  he  is 
forced  to  quit.  Besides  he  is  there  superfluous — he 
produces  repletion,  and  consequently  a  depres- 
sion of  the  ordinary  wages.  Thus  every  one  suffers. 
This  is  the  great  unhappiness  of  nations  predom- 
inating in  commerce,  and  the  inconvenience  of  an 
exaggerated  development  of  industry,  a  develop- 
ment which  from  being  exaggerated  is  subject  to 
vicissitudes,  it  is  what  at  least  should  prove,  that 


149 

it  is  very  imprudent  for  a  political  society  to  seek 
to  procure  a  factitious  prosperity  by  forced  means, 
It  can  but  be  fragile,  it  is  enjoyed  without  happi- 
ness, and  is  never  lost  without  extreme  evils. 

It  has  been  remarked  that  nations  essentially 
agricultural  are  less  subject  to  suffer  from  these 
sudden  revolutions  of  industry  and  commerce,  in 
consequence,  the  stability  of  their  prosperity  has 
been  greatly  vaunted,  and  to  a  certain  point  with 
reason.  But  I  think  it  has  not  been  sufficiently 
remarked,  that  they  are  more  exposed  than  com- 
mercial nations  to  the  most  cruel  of  all  variations, 
that  of  the  price  of  grain  :  it  seems  that  this  ought 
not  to  be,  and  yet  it  is,  it  is  even  easy  to  find  the 
reason.  A  people  devoted  to  agriculture  are  spread 
over  a  vast  territory.  This  territory  is  either  en- 
tirely  inland,  or  if  it  borders  on  some  sides  on  the 
sea,  it  has  necessarily  a  great  portion  of  its  extent 
deeply  inland.  When  the  crops  fail  their  suc- 
cours can  only  be  carried  by  land,  or  by  ascending 
rivers,  a  kind  of  navigation,  always  very  expen- 
sive and  often  impossible.  Now  as  grain  and 
other  alimentary  matters,  are  articles  of  great  bur- 
then, it  happens  that  when  they  are  brought  to  the 
place  in  which  they  are  wanted,  their  price  from 
the  expenses  of  transportation,  is  so  high,  that 
scarcely  any  one  can  purchase,  accordingly  it  is 
known  from  experience  that  all  importations  of  this 
kind  in  times  of  calamity,  have  merely  served  to 
console  and  calm  the  imagination ;  but  have  never 
been  real  resources  :  the  poor  then  must  absolutely 
restrict  his  consumption  so  as  to  suffer  greatly,  and 
the  most  destitute  must  perish.  There  is  no  other 


150 

mean  of  preventing  the  whole  from  perishing,  when 
the  dearth  is  very  great.  It  is  in  tins  case  that  in 
a  besieged  town,  all  the  useless  mouths  if  possible 
are  sent  away.  It  is  the  same  calculation.  The 
defence  would  still  he  prolonged,  if  they  dared  to 
rid  themselves  of  all  the  defenders  who  are  not 
indispensable  ;  but  the  consumption  of  war  operates 
their  destruction  :  and  it  is  perhaps  this  cruel— but 
wise  combination,  which  determines  the  otherwise 
useless  sorties,  made  by  certain  governors  near 
the  end  of  a  seige — sorties  very  different  from  those 
made  at  its  commencement,  in  mere  bravado. 

Men  would  greatly  augment  the  security  of  their 
existence,  and  the  possibility  of  their  occupying 
certain  countries,  if  they  could  reduce  alimentary 
matters  to  small  bulk,  and  consequently  to  easy 
transportion.  In  truth,  they  would  immediately 
abuse  this  faculty,  to  injure  themselves,  as  Shep- 
herd tribes  avail  themselves  of  the  facility  of  trans- 
portation produced  by  the  celerity  of  their  beasts 
of  burden,  to  become  brigands :  for  nothing  is  so 
dangerous  as  a  transportable  man.  We  have  only 
to  observe  the  enormous  advantage  which  temper- 
ance gives  to  armies  in  invasions.  This  is  the 
power  of  the  species  badly  employed  ;  but  in  short 
it  is  its  power — and  it  is  this  power  which,  in  case 
of  dearth,  is  wanting  to  agricultural  and  peaceful 
nations,  spread  over  a  vast  territory. 

Commercial  nations,  on  the  contrary,  are  either 
insular,  or  extended  along  the  coasts  of  the  sea* 
Accessible  every  where,  they  may  receive  succour 
from  all  countries.  In  order  that  dearness  should 
become  excessive  in  these  nations,  for  the  price 


151 

to  become  excessive  with  these  people,  the  crops 
must  have  failed  in  all  the  habitable  globe.  Even 
then  it  would  only  rise  to  the  mean  rate  of  general 
dearness,  and  never  to  the  extreme  rate  of  the  local 
dearness  of  the  inland  countries  most  destitute. 
These  nations,  then,  are  exempt  from  the  greatest 
of  disasters  ;  and,  as  to  the  less  general  evils  result- 
ing from  the  revolutions  which  take  place  in  some 
branches  of  industry  and  commerce;  I  observe 
that  they  are  rarely  exposed  to  them  if  they  have 
left  to  this  industry  and  to  this  commerce  their  na- 
tural course — and  if  they  have  not  employed  violent 
means  to  give  them  an  exaggerated  extension.  I 
conclude,  not  only  that  their  condition  is  better,  but 
also  that  their  misfortunes  are  produced  by  their 
faults,  whilst  those  of  the  others  proceed  from  their 
position ;  and  that  thus  they  have  more  means  of 
avoiding  these  misfortunes.  We  were  necessarily 
led  to  this  result,  and  ought  to  have  seen  it  in  ad- 
vance :  for  since  society — which  is  a  continual  com- 
merce— is  the  cause  of  our  power  and  of  our  own 
resources  ;  it  would  be  contradictory,  that  where 
this  commerce  is  the  most  perfect,  and  most  active, 
we  should  be  more  accessible  to  misfortune. 

If,  therefore,  it  were  proved  that  the  prosperity 
of  commercial  nations  was  less  solid,  and  less  dura- 
ble, (a  fact  I  do  not  believe  true,  at  least  amongst 
moderns)*  it  would  be  necessary,  first,  to  distin- 
guish between  happiness  and  power — and  to  re- 

*The  examples  of  the  ancients  prove  nothing,  because  their  political 
economy  was  entirely  founded  on  force.  The  inland  people  were  brigands, 
the  maritime  people  pirates. — All  wished  to  be  conquerors.  Then  chance 
determines  the  destiny  of  a  nation. 


15S 

mark,  that  in  the  calamities  of  which  we  have  just 
spoken — the  happiness  of  individuals  in  agricultu- 
ral nations  is  much  at  hazard,  hut  their  power  sub- 
sists; because  the  loss  of  men,  wrho  perish  in 
dearth,  is  quickly  repaired  by  new  births  when  it 
ceases — the  habitual  means  of  existence,  not  having 
been  destroyed  ;  whereas  in  a  commercial  nation, 
when  a  branch  of  industry  is  annihilated,  it  is  some- 
times annihilated  without  return,  and  without  a 
possibility  of  being  replaced  by  another ;  so  that 
that  part  of  the  population  which  it  brings  to  ruin 
cannot  be  again  restored.  But,  as  we  have  said, 
tliis  latter  case  is  rare,  when  not  provoked  by  faults. 
If,  independently  of  this,  it  were  proved  that  the 
prosperity  of  commercial  nations  is  frail,  in  propor- 
tion to  the  internal  vices  to  which  they  are  subject, 
it  would  not  be  proper  to  impute  it  to  commerce 
itself,  but  to  accidental  causes — and  principally  to 
the  manner  in  which  riches  are  frequently  intro- 
duced into  these  states,  which  favours  extremely 
their  very  unequal  distribution ;  and  this  is  the 
greatest  and  most  general  of  evils.  On  ex- 
amination, we  should  find  there,  as  every  where, 
the  human  race  happy  from  the  development  and 
increase  of  its  means ;  but  ready  to  become  unhap- 
py from  the  bad  use  it  makes  of  them.  The  dis- 
cussion of  this  question,  in  all  its  extent,  will  find 
its  place  elsewhere. 

However,  it  may  be,  it  is  then  certain  that  the 
poor  are  proprietors  as  well  as  the  rich ;  that  in 
(heir  quality  of  proprietors  of  their  persons,  of  their 
faculties,  and  of  their  product,  they  have  an  interest 
hi  being  allowed  the  free  disposition  of  their  persons 


153 

and  labour ;  that  this  labour  should  produce  them 
sufficient  wages ;  and  that  these  wages  should  v7ary 
as  little  as  possible,  that  is  to  say  they  have  an  in- 
terest that  their  capital  should  be  respected,  that 
this  capital  should  produce  the  revenue  necessary 
for  existence,    and  that   this  revenue  if  possible 
should   be   always   the   same  ;    and    in   all  these 
points  their  interests  conform  to  the  general  interest. 
But  the  poor  is  not  only  a  proprietor,  he  is  also  a 
consumer:   for  all  men  are  both  the  one  and  the 
other.      In  this  latter  quality   he    has  the  same 
interest  as  all  consumers,  that  of  being  provisioned 
in  the  best  and  cheapest  manner  possible.     It  is 
necessary  then  for  him,  that  manufacture  should  be 
very   expert,  communications  easy,  and  relations 
multiplied  :  for  no  one  has  a  greater  need  of  being 
supplied  on  good  terms  than  he  who  has  few  means. 
What  must  be  thought  then  of  those  who  maintain 
that  ameliorations  of  the  methods  and  the  invention 
of  machines,  which  simplify  and  abridge  the  pro- 
cesses of  art,  are  an  evil  for  the  poor?     My  answer 
is  that  they  have  no  idea  of  their  real  interest,  nor 
of  those  of  society  :  For  one  must  be  blind  not  to 
see   that  when  a  thing  which  required  four  days 
labour  can  be  made  in  one,  every  one  for  the  same 
sum  can  procure  four  times  as  much ;  or,  consuming 
only  the  same  quantity,  may  have  three-fourths  of 
his  money  remaining  to  be  employed  in  procuring 
other  enjoyments — and  certainly  this  advantage  is 
still  more  precious  to  the  poor  than  to  the  rich.    But, 
say  they,  the  poor  gained  these  four  days  labour—* 
and  now  he  will  gain  but  one.     But,  say  I,  in  my 
turn,  you  forget  then  that  the  funds  on  which  all  the 

31 


iM 

hirelings  live  are  the  sum  of  the  means  of  those  who 
employ  them ;  that  this  sum  is  a  quantity  nearly 
constant ;  that  it  is  always  employed  annually ;  that 
if  a  particular  ohject  absorbs  a  smaller  part  of  it, 
the  surplus,  which  is  economised,  seeks  other  desti- 
nations ;  and  that  thus,  while  it  is  not  diminished, 
it   hires   an  equal  number  of  labourers — and  that 
moreover,  if  there  is  a  mean  of  augmenting  it,  it  is 
by  rendering  fabrication  more  economical;  because 
this  is  the  mean  of  opening  new  vents,  and  of  giving 
possibility  to  new  enterprises  of  industry — which 
are  as  we  have  seen,  the  only  sources  of  the  increase 
of  our  riches.   These  reasons  appear  to  me  decisive, 
If  the  contrary  reasons  were  valid,  we  should  have 
to  conclude  that  nothing  is  more  beneficial,  than  the 
execution*  of  useless  labour,  because  there  is  always 
the  same   number  of  persons  occupied ;  and  that 
there  would  not  remain  fewer  for  the  execution  of 
the  same  quantity  of  necessary  labour.  .  I  grant  this 
second  point.      But,  first,  this  useless  labour  would 
be  paid  with  funds  which  would  otherwise  have 
paid  for  useful  labour  and   which  will  not  pay 
it — thus  nothing  is  gained  on  this  side.     Secondly, 
from  this  unfruitful  labour  nothing  remains  5  and,  if 
it  had  been  fruitful,  there  would  have  remained  from 
it  useful  things  for  procuring  enjoyments,  or  capable, 
by  being  exported,  to  augment  the  mass  of  acquired 
riches.      It  appears   to  me  that  nothing   can   be 
answered  to  this,  when  we  have  once  clearly  seen  on 
what  funds  hirelings  live.     This  series  of  combina- 
tions will  occur  when  we  shall  speak  of  the  employ- 
ment of  our  riches.      It  is  for  this  I  have  developed 
it :  For  so  much  reasoning  appears  unnecessary  to 


155 

prove  that  labour  acknowledged  useless  is  useless-, 
and  that  it  is  more  useful  to  execute  useful  labour. 
Now  to  this  single  truth  is  reduced  the  apology  for 
machines  and  other  improvements. 

They  have  made  against  the  construction  of  roads 
and  canals,  and  generally  against  the  facility  of  com- 
munications,  and  the  multiplicity  of  commercial 
relations  the  same  objections  as  those  I  have  just 
refuted.  I  give  them  the  same  answer.  It  has 
moreover  been  pretended  that  all  this  is  in  another 
way  hurtful  to  the  poor,  by  raising  the  price  of  provi- 
sions. The  truth  is,  that  it  raises  their  price  at 
times  when  they  are  too  low  from  the  difficulty  of 
exporting  them ;  but  it  reduces  their  price,  when 
too  high  from  the  difficulty  of  importing  them. 
Thus  it  renders  the  prices  more  constantly  equal ; 
and  I  conclude,  on  the  principles  we  have  establish- 
ed, that  it  is  a  great  benefit  to  the  poor  and  to  society 
in  general. 

I  admit,  however,  that  all  these  innovations,  advan- 
tageous in  themselves,  may  sometimes  produce  at 
first  a  momentary  and  partial  restraint — it  is  the 
effect  of  all  sudden  changes ;  but,  as  the  utility  of 
these  is  general  and  durable,  this  consideration 
ought  not  to  retard  them.  It  is  only  requisite  that 
society  should  give  succour  to  those  who  suffer  for  the 
moment  ;  and  this  it  can  easily  do,  when  it  is  pros 
pering  in  the  mass. 

It  is  then  true  that  notwithstanding  the  necessary 
opposition  of  our  particular  interests,  we  are  all  uni- 
ted by  the  common  interests  of  proprietors  and  con- 
sumers ;  and,  consequently,  it  is  wrong  to  regard 
the  poor  and  the  rich,  or  the  hirelings  and  those 


158 

who  employ  them,  as  two  classes  essentially  enemies. 
It  is  particularly  true,,  that  the  real  interests  of  the 
poor  are  always  the  same  as  those  of  the  society 
taken  in  mass.  I  do  not  pretend  to  say  that  the  poor 
always  know  their  real  interests.  Who  is  he  that 
always  has  just  ideas  on  these  matters,  even  amongst 
the  enlightened  ?  But,  in  fine,  it  is  much  that  things 
are  thus  ;  and  it  is  a  good  thing  to  know  it.  Tli6 
greatest  difficulty,  in  impressing  this,  is,  perhaps,  to 
be  ahle  clearly  to  point  out  the  cause.  This  I  think 
we  have  now  done.  Arriving  at  this  result,  we  have 
examined  by  the  way  several  questions,  which, 
without  diverting  us  from  our  road,  have  retarded  our 
inarch.  Yet  I  have  not  thought  it  right  to  pass  them 
by  without  notice,  because,  in  things  of  this  kind, 
all  the  objects  are  so  intimately  linked  together  that 
there  is  no  one  which,  being  well  cleared  up,  does 
not  throw  great  light, on  all  the  others. 

But  we  are  not  only  opposed  in  interests,  we  are 
also  unequal  in  means.  This  second  condition  of 
our  nature  deserves  also  to  be  studied  in  its  conse- 
quences, without  which  we  cannot  completely  know 
the  effects  of  the  distribution  of  our  riches  among 
different  individuals ;  and  we  shall  but  imperfectly 
know  what  we  ought  to  think  of  the  advantages  and 
inconveniences  of  the  increase  of  these  same  riches, 
by  the  effect  of  society.  Let  us  at  first  establish 
some  general  truths. 

Declaimers  have  maintained  that  inequality  in 
general  is  useful,  and  that  it  is  a  benefit  for  which 
we  ought  to  thank -Providence.  I  have  but  one 
word  to  answer.  Amongst  sensible  beings,  fre- 
quently with  opposite  interests,  justice  is  the  great- 


157 

e« t  good :  for  that  alone  can  so  conciliate  them, 
that  none  may  have  cause  of  complaint.  Then  ine- 
quality is  an  evil  not  because  it  is  in  itself  injustice, 
but  because  it  is  a  powerful  prop  to  injustice  wher- 
ever justice  is  in  favour  of  the  weak. 

Every  inequality  of  means,  and  of  faculties,  is  at 
bottom  an  inequality  of  power.  However,  when  we 
enter  into  detail,  we  can  and  ought  to  distinguish 
between  the  inequality  of  power,  properly  so  called, 
and  the  inequality  of  riches. 

The  first  is  the  most  grevious — it  submits  the 
person  itself.  It  exists  in  all  its  horror  among 
brutal  and  savage  men— with  them  it  places  the 
weak  at  the  mercy  of  the  strong.  It  is  the  cause 
why  among  them  there  are  the  fewest  relations 
possible,  for  it  would  become  insupportable.  If  it 
has  not  been  always  remarked  among  them,  it  is 
because  scarcely  ever  accompanied  by  an  inequality 
of  riches ;  which  is  what  strikes  us  most  forcibly, 
having  it  always  under  our  eyes. 

The  object  of  the  social  organization  is  to  combat 
the  inequality  of  power ;  and  most  frequently  it 
causes  it  to  cease,  or  at  least  diminishes  it.  Men 
shocked  with  the  abuses  still  prevalent  in  society, 
have  pretended  that,  on  the  contrary,  it  augments 
this  inequality  ;  and  it  must  be  confessed,  that  when 
it  totally  loses  sight  of  its  destination  it  justifies  the 
reproaches  of  its  bitterest  detractors.  For  example 
wheresoever  it  continues  slavery,  properly  so  called, 
it  is  certain  that  savage  independence,  with  all  its 
dangers  is  still  preferable.  But  it  must  be  admitted 
nevertheless  that  this  is  not  the  object  of  society ; 


158 

and  that  it  tends,  most  frequently  \vith  success,  to 
diminish  the  inequality  of  power. 

By  diminishing  the  inequality  of  power,  and  thus 
establishing  security,  society  produces  the  develop- 
ment of  all  our  faculties,  and  increases  our  riches, 
that  is  to  say  our  means  of  existence  and  enjoyment. 
Eat  the  more  our  faculties  are  developed,  the  more 
their  inequality  appears  and  augments;  and  this 
soon  introduces  the  inequality  of  riches,  which 
ijrings  with  it  that  of  instruction,  capacity  and  of 
influence.  Here,  in  a  word,  as  appeals  to  me,  are 
the  advantages  and  inconveniences  of  society.  This 
view  shows  us  what  we  have  a  right  to  expect  from 
•  ,  and  what  we  ought  to  do  to  perfect  it. 

Since  the  object  of  society  is  to  diminish  the 
inequality  of  power,  it  ought  to  aim  at  its  accomplish- 
ment, and  since  its  inconvenience  is  to  favour  the 
inequality  of  riches,  it  ought  constantly  to  endeavour 
to  lessen  it — always  by  gentle,  and  never  by  violent, 
means :  for  it  should  always  be  remembered,  that 
the  -fundamental  base  of  society  is  a  respect  for 
property,  and  its  gurantee  against  all  violence. 

But  it  will  be  asked,  when  inequality  is  reduced 
entirely  to  an  inequality  of  riches,  is  it  still  so  great 
an  evil  ?  I  answer,  boldly,  yes :  For,  first,  bringing 
with  it  an  inequality  of  instruction,  of  capacity,  and 
of  influence,  it  tends  to  re-establish  the  inequality  of 
power  and  consequently  to  subvert  society.  Again, 
considering  it  only  under  an  economical  relation,  we 
have  seen  that  the  funds  on  which  hirelings  live  are 
the  revenues  of  all  those  who  have  capitals  ;  and 
among  these  it  is  only  undertakers  of  industry  who 
augment  their  riches,  and  consequently  the  riches 


159 

of  the  nation.  Now  it  is  precisely  the  possessors  of 
great  fortunes  who  are  idle,  and  who  pay  no  labour 
but  for  their  pleasure.  Thus  the  more  there  are  of 
great  fortunes*  the  more  national  riches  tend  to 
decay  and  population  to  diminish.  The  example 
of  all  times,  and  all  places,  supports  this  theory: 
For  wherever  you  see  exaggerated  fortunes,  *  you 
there  see  the  greatest  misery  and  the  greatest  stag- 
nation of  industry. 

The  perfection  of  society,  then,  would  be  to 
increase  our  riches  greatly,  avoiding  their  extreme 
inequality.  But  this  is  much  more  difficult  at  certain 
times,  and  in  certain  places,  than  in  others.  An 
inland  agricultural  people  having  few  relations, 
living  on  a  sterile  soil,  unable  to  increase  their 
means  of  enjoyment  but  by  the  slow  progress  of  its 
culture,  and  the  still  slower  progress  of  their  manu- 
factures, will  easily,  and  for  a  long  time,  avoid  the 
establishment  of  great  inequality  among  their 
citizens.  If  the  soil  is  more  rich — and  especially, 
if  in  some  places  it  produces  articles  in  great 
demand — large  fortunes  will  be  more  easily  ac- 
quired :  If  it  has  mines  of  precious  'metals,  many 
individuals  will  certainly  ruin  themselves  by  work- 
ing them ;  but  some  will  acquire  immense  riches : 
or,  if  the  government  reserves  to  itself  this  profit,  it 
will  soon  be  enabled  to  procure  for  its  creatures  an 
exaggerated  opulence  ;  and  it  is  very  probable  it 

*  To  judge  of  the  exaggeration  of  certain  fortunes,  consider  their  pro- 
portions :  for  there  may  be  Englishmen  near  as  rich,  or  richer  than  the 
greatest  Russian  or  Polish  lords  ;  but  they  live  in  the  midst  of  a  people 
generally  in  much  more  easy  circumstances,-— consetyiemly  tfce  dispropor- 
tion, though  real,  is  much  less. 


160 

will  not  fail  to  do  it.  Too  many  Causes  conctorto 
procluee  this  effect.  Finally,  if  you  suppose  this 
people,  still  poor,  to  become  conquerors,  to  seize  on 
a  rich  country,  and  to  establish  themselves  in  it  as 
conquerors,  here  is  at  once  the  greatest  inequality 
introduced :  First  between  the  victorious  and  the 
conquered  nation,  and  afterwards  among  the  con- 
querors themselves :  for  where  force  decides  it  is 
very  difficult  to  have  equitable  partitions.  The  lots 
of  the  different  individuals  are  as  different,  as  their 
degrees  of  authority  in  the  army  or  of  favour  with 
the  chief.  Moreover,  they  are  exposed  to  frequent 
usurpations. 

The  fortune  of  maritime  nations  is  generally  more 
rapid.  Yet  there  we  remark  the  same  varieties. 
Navigators  may  be  reduced  to  small  profits — to  car- 
rying— to  fishing — to  commerce  with  nations  from 
which  great  profits  cannot  be  made.  Then  it  is, 
easy  for  them  to  remain  long  nearly  equal  amongst 
themselves.  They  may,  on  the  contrary,  penetrate 
into  unknown  regions ;  have  in  profusion  the  most 
rare  articles ;  establish  relations  with  people  from 
whom  they  can  derive  immense  profits ;  take  to 
themselves  great  monopolies ;  found  rich  colonies^ 
over  which  they  hold  a  tyranical  empire ;  or  eveu 
become  conquerors,  and  import  into  their  country  the 
productions  of  countries  very  extensive  subjected  by 
their  arms,— as  the  English  in  India,  and  the 
Spaniards  in  South  America.  In  all  these  cases, 
there  is  more  or  less  of  chance  ;  but  in  all,  a  great 
probability  that  their  enormous  riches  will  be  very 
unequally  distributed. 


161 

Many  other  circumstances,  without  doubt,  con- 
nect themselves  with  these,  and  modify  their  effects. 
The  different  characters  of  people,  the  nature  of 
their  government,  the  greater  or  less  extent  of  their 
information,'  and,  above  all,  of  their  knowledge  of 
the  social  art  in  the  moments  which  decide  their 
fortune,  occasion  like  events  to  have  very  differ- 
ent consequences.  If  Vasco  De  Gama  and  his 
cotemporaries  had  had  the  same  views  and  misfor- 
tunes as  Cook,  or  La  Pey rouse,  our  relations  wick 
the  Indies  would  be  quite  different  from  what  they 
are.  It  is  above  all  remarkable,  how  much  influ- 
ence the  epoch  at  which  a  political  society  begins  to 
be  formed,  has  on  the  duration  of  its  existence. 
Certainly  empires  founded  by  Clovis  or  by  Cortez, 
or  societies  receiving  their  first  laws  from  Locke  or 
Franklin,  ought  to  take  very  different  directions ; 
and  this  we  clearly  perceive,  in  every  period  of  their 
history.* 

It  is  these  causes  so  different,  and  above  all  the 
last,  which  produce  the  infinite  variety  remarked  in 
the  destinies  of  nations,  but  the  ground  is  every 
where  the  same.  Society  affording  to  every  one  se- 
curity of  person  and  property,  causes  the  develop- 
ment of  our  faculties ;  this  development  produces 
the  increase  of  our  riches — their  increase  brings  on 
sooner  or  later  their  very  unequal  division ;  and  this 
unequal  division  occasioning  the  inequality  of  power 

•*  This  is  so  striking,  that  I  imagine  there  is  no  one  who  does  not  regret 
that  America  was  discovered  three  hundred  years  too  soon,  and  who  does 
not  even  doubt  whether  it  would  yet  be  a  proper  time  for  discovering  it. 
It  is  true  that  these  events,  however  deplorable,  have  promoted  our  ulterior 
progress  ;  but  it  is  buying  them  very  dear.  It  appears  that  such  is  our 
ilestiny. 


which  society  begun  by  restraining,  and  was  intended 
to  destroy,  produces  its  weakness,  and  sometimes 
its  total  dissolution. 

It  is  doubtless  this  vicious  circle  which  historians 
have  wished  to  represent  to  us  by  the  youth  and  old 
age  of  nations,  and  by  what  they  call  their  primary 
virtue,  their  primitive  purity,  then  their  degeneration, 
their  corruptions,  their  effeminacy.  But  these  vague 
expressions,  against  which  I  have  already  protested, 
paint  the  facts  very  badly,  and  often  lead  astray  even 
those  who  employ  them  : — they  tell  us  always  of  the 
virtue  of  poor  nations.  Certainly  where  equality 
renders  injustice  and  oppression  more  difficult,  and 
more  rare,  they  are  more  virtuous  from  the  fact  it- 
self— since  fewer  faults  #re  committed.  But  it  is 
equality  and  not  poverty  which  is  their  protection. 
Otherwise  the  passions  are  the  same  there  as  else- 
where. Why  incessantly  represent  to  us  commer- 
cial nations  as  avaricious,  and  agricultural  people 
as  models  of  moderation  ?  Men  every  where  hold  to 
tlu'ir  interests,  and  are  occupied  with  them.  The 
Carthaginians  were  not  more  avaricious  than  theRo- 
mans;  and  the  Romans,  who  were  the  most  cruel 
usurers  at  home  and  insatiable  spoliators  abroad, 
were  quite  as  avaricious  in  what  are  called  their  best 
times,  as  under  the  emperors.  The  state  of  society  ! 
alone  was  different.  It  is  the  same  with  the  word 
degeneration.  Certainly  when  a  part  of  mankind 
has  been  accustomed  to  resign  itself  to  oppression, 
and  another  part  to  abuse  its  power,  we  may  well 
say  they  have  degenerated  ;  but,  from  the  manner 
In  which  this  expression  is  often  employed,  we 


ids 

should  be  led  to  believe  they  are  no  longer  born  the 
same— that  nature  has  changed— that   the  race  is 
depreciated— that  they  have  no  longer  Force  or  cou- 
rage : — all  this  is  very  false.  We-h.ive  a  still  greater 
abuse  of  the  expressions  effeminate  and  effeminacy. 
Montesquieu   himself  tells  you    gravely,  that  the 
fertility  of  the  land  effeminates  its  inhabitants  *     It 
nourishes  them  and  this  is  all.     To  listen  to  certain 
authors,  we  should  suppose  that  there  comes  a  time 
when  all  the  inhabitants  of  a  country  live  amidst  de- 
lights, as  those  famous  Sybarites  of  whom  we  have 
been  told  so  much.     This  would  be  very  happy, 
but  it  is  impossible      When  you  are  told  that  a  na- 
tion is  enervated  by  effeminacy,  understand  that 
there  is  about  an  hundreth  part  of  it,  at  most,  cor- 
rupted by  the  habit  of  power  and  the  facility  of  en- 
joyment ;  and  that  all  the  rest  are  debarred  by  op- 
pression, and  devoured  by  misery.^     Nor  are  we 
less  deceived  in  the  sense  of  the  expression,  poor 
nations;  it  is  there  the  people  are  at  their  ease — 
and  the  rich  nations  is  where  the  people  are  com- 
monly  poor.     It  is  for  this  reason  that  some  are 
strong,  and  others  often  weak.     We  might  multiply 
these  reflections  to  infinity ;  but  all  may  be  reduced 

*  He  says  of  it  many  other  things.  See  his  18th  book  of  laws,  in  the  re- 
lation they  have  with  the  nature  of  the  loil. 

f  And  those  famous  delight*  of  Capua  !  and  all  those  armies  suddenly 
tffeminated,  by  having  found  themselves  in  abundance!  Ask  of  all  the 
generals  if  their  soldiers  have  been  the  worse  for  having  plentifully  enjoyed 
the  means  of  life  for  some  time,  unless  they  have  suffered  them  to  become 
pillagers,  and  undisciplined,  .by  setting  them  the  example;  or  the  chiefs, 
having  made  th«ir  fortune,  are  no  longer  ambitious.,  If  it  is  this  which  ha« 
happened  to  the  Carthaginians,  and  others,  this  is  what  should  have  been 
said,  and  not  in  vain  rhetorical 


164 

to  this  truth,  which  has  not  always  been  sufficiently 
perceived ;  the  multiplication  of  our  means  of  enjoy- 
ment is  a  very  good  thing ;  their  too  unequal  par- 
tition is  a  very  bad  one,  and  the  source  of  all  our 
evils.  On  this  point  still  the  interest  of  the  poor  is 
the  same  as  that  of  society.  I  think  I  have  said 
enough  on  the  distribution  of  our  riches ;  it  is  time 
to  speak  of  the  use  we  make  of  them. 


CHAPTER  XL 

Of  the  employment  of  our  Riches,  or  of  Con- 
sumption. 

After  having  seen  how  our  riches  are  formed, 
and  how  they  are  distributed  among  us,  we  are  ar- 
rived at  the  point  of  examining  how  we  use  them, 
and  what  are  the  consequences  of  the  different  uses 
we  make  of  them.  This  is  what  will  complete  the 
illustration  of  the  whole  course  of  society,  and  show 
us  what  things  are  really  useful  or  hurtful,  as  well 
to  the  public  as  to  individuals.  If  in  the  two  first 
parts,  we  have  well  ascertained  and  explained  the 
truth,  this  will  unravel  itself,  and  every  thing  in  it 
will  be  clear  and  incontestible.  If,  on  the  con- 
trary, we  have  imperfectly  viewed  the  first  facts, 
if  we  have  not  remounted  to  first  principles,  if  our 
researches  have  been  superficial  or  led  astray  by  a 
spirit  of  system,  we  are  about  to  encounter  difficul- 
ties on  difficulties;  and  there  will  remain  in  all  we 
shall  say  many  obscure  and  doubtful  things,  as  has 
happened  to  many  others,  and  even  to  the  most  ca- 
pable and  learned.  'However  the  reader  will  judge. 

We  create  nothing  ;  we  annihilate  nothing  ;  but 
we  operate  changes,  productive  or  destructive, 
of  utility.  We  procure  for  ourselves  means  of  en- 
joyment, only  to  provide  for  our  wants  ;  and  we 
cannot  employ  them  in  the  satisfaction  of  these 
wants ;  but  by  diminishing  and  even  destroying 


166 

them.  We  make  cloth,  and,  with  this  cloth,  clothes, 
only  to  clothe  ourselves ;  and,  by  wearing,  we 
wear  THEM  out ;  with  grain,  air,  earth,  water,  and 
manure,  we  produce  alimentary  matters  to  nourish 
ourselves  ;  and,  by  nourishing  ourselves  with  them, 
we  convert  them  into  gas  and  manure  ;  which  again 
produce  more.  This  is  what  we  call  consumption. 
Consumption  is  the  end  of  production,  but  it  is  its 
contrary.  Thus  all  production  augments  our 
riches,  and  all  consumption  diminishes  them. — 
Such  is  the  general  law. 

However  there  are  consumptions  of  many  kinds. 
There  are  some  which  are  only  apparent ;  others 
very  real,  and  even  destructive  ;  and  some  which 
are  fruitful.  They  vary  according  to  the  species  of 
consumers,  and  the  nature  of  the  things  consumed. 
These  differences  must  be  examinee!  and  distin- 
guished, in  order  clearly  to  see  the  effect  of  general 
consumption,  on  the  total  mass  of  riches.  Let  us 
begin  by  discussing  the  consumers.  I  hazard  this 
expression,  because  it  well  expresses  the  end  which 
I  propose  to  myself. 

We  agree  that  we  are  all  consumers,  for  we  all 
have  wants  for  which  we  cannot  provide  but  by  a 
consumption  of  some  kind  ;  and  that  also  we  are  all 
proprietors,  for  we  all  possess  s\)me  means  of  pro- 
viding for  our  wants,  were  it  only  by  our  indivi- 
dual force  and  capacity.  But  we  have  also  seen, 
that  from  the  unequal  manner  in  which  riches  are 
distributed,  in  proportion  as  they  are  accumulated, 
many  among  us  have  no  part  in  these  accumulated 
riches,  and  possess  in  effect  but  their  individual 
force.  These  have  no  other  treasure  than  their 


167 

daily  labour.  This  labour  procures  them  wages, 
for  which  reason  we  have  called  them  specially 
hirelings  ;  and  it  is  with  these  wages  they  provide 
for  their  consumption. 

But  whence  are  the  wages  raised  ?  Evidently 
on  the  property  of  those  to  whom  these  hirelings 
sell  their  labour,  that  is  to  say  on  funds,  in  ad- 
vance, which  are  in  their  possession, — and  which 
are  no  other  than  the  accumulated  products  of  la- 
bour previously  executed.  It  follows  thence,  that 
the  consumption  for  which  these  riches  pay,  is 
truly  the  consumption  of  the  hirelings  in  this 
sense,  that  it  is  them  it  subsists ;  but  at  bot- 
tom it  is  not  they  who  pay  it,  or  at  least  they  pay 
it  only  with  the  funds  existing  in  advance  in  the 
hands  of  those  who  employ  them.  They  merely 
receive  w*h  one  hand  and  give  with  the  -other. 
Their  consumption,  therefore,  ought  to  be  regarded 
as  being  made  by  those  who  pay  them.  If  even 
they  do  not  expend  all  they  receive,  these  savings 
raising  them  to  the  ranks  of  capitalists,  enable  them 
afterwards  to  make  expenditures  en  their  own 
funds  ;  but  as  they  come  to  them  from  the  same 
hands,  they  ought  at  first  to  be  regarded  as  the  ex- 
penses of  the  same  persons  ;  thus  to  avoid  double 
reckoning  of  the  same  article  in  the  economical  cal- 
culations, we  must  consider  as  absolutely  nothing 
the  immediate  consumption  of  hirelings,  as  hire- 
lings ;  and  to  consider  not  only  all  they  expend, 
but  even  the  whole  they  receive,  as  the  real  expen- 
diture and  proper  consumption  of  those  who  pur- 
chase their  labour.  This  is  so  true,  that  to  see 
whether  this  consumption  is  more  or  less  destructive 


168 

of  the  riches  acquired,  or  even  if  it  tends  to  aug- 
ment them  as  it  often  does,  depends  entirely  on 
knowing  what  use  the  capitalists  make  of  the  labour 
they  purchase.  This  leads  us  to  examine  the  con- 
sumption of  capitalists. 

We  have  said  that  they  are  of  two  kinds,  the 
one  idle,  the  other  active.     The  first  have  a  fixed 
revenue,  independent  of  all  action  on  their  part, 
since  they  are  supposed  idle.     This  revenue  con- 
sists in  the  hiring  of  their  capitals — whether  movea- 
bles,  money  or  land, — which  they  hire  to  those  who 
improve  them  by  the  effect  of  their  industry.     This 
revenue,  is,  then,  but  a  previous  levy  on  the  pro- 
ducts of  the  activity  of  the  industrious  citizens ; 
but  this  is  not  our  present  enquiry.     What  we  wish 
to  see  is,  what  is  the  employment  of  this  revenue  ? 
Since  the  men  to  whom  it  belongs  are  idle,  it  is  evi- 
dent they  do  not  direct  any  productive  labour.   All 
the  labourers  whom  they  pay  are  solely  destined  to 
procure  them  enjoyments.     Without  doubt  these 
enjoyments  are  of  different  kinds  :  For  the  least 
wealthy  they  are  limited  to  the  satisfaction  of  the 
most  urgent  wants  ; — for  the  others  they  are  extend- 
ed by  degrees,  according  to  their  taste  and  means, 
to  objects  of  the  most  refined  and  unbridled  luxury. 
But,  in  fine,  the  expenses  of  all  this  class  of  men 
are  alike  in  this,  that  they  have  no  object  but  their 
personal  satisfaction  ;  and  that  they  support  a  nu- 
merous population,  to  which  they  afford  subsist- 
ence ;  but  whose  labour  is  completely  sterile.  It  is 
however  true,  that  amongst  these  expenses  some 
may  be  found  which  are  more  or  less  fruitful  ;  as, 
for  example,  the  construction  of  a  house,  or  the  im- 


169 

provement  of  a  landed  estate.  But  these  are  parti 
cular  cases,  which  place  consumers  of  this  kind  mo- 
mentarily in  the  class  of  those  who  direct  useful 
enterprises  and  pay  for  productive  labour.  After 
these  trifling  exceptions,  all  the  consumption  of  this 
species  of  capitalists  is  absolutely  pure  loss,  in  re- 
lation to  reproduction,  and  so  far  a  diminution  of 
the  riches  acquired.  Also,  we  must  remark,  that 
these  men  can  expend  no  more  than  their  revenue  : 
if  they  touch  on  their  funds  nothing  replaces  them, 
and  their  consumption  exaggerated  for  a  moment, 
ceases  for  ever. 

The  second  class  of  capitalists,  who  employ  and 
pay  hirelings,  is  composed  of  those  whom  we  have 
called  active.  It  comprehends  all  the  undertakers 
of  any  kind  of  industry  whatsoever,  that  is  to  say  all 
the  men  who  having  capitals  of  a  greater  or  smaller 
amount,  employ  their  talents  and  industry  in  im- 
proving them  themselves,  instead  of  hiring  them  to 
others  ;  and  who,  consequently  live  neither  on 
wages  nor  revenues  but  on  profit.  These  men 
hot  only  improve  their  proper  capitals,  hut  all  those 
also  of  the  inactive  capitalists.  They  take  on  rent 
their  lands,  houses,  and  money,  and  employ  them 
so  as  to  derive  from  them  profits  superior  to  the 
rent.*  They  have  then  in  their  hands  almost  all 
the  riches  of  society.  It  is  moreover  to  be  remark- 
ed, that  it  is  not  only  the  rent  of  these  riches  they 
annually  expend,  but  also  the  funds  themselves ; 

*  Idle  capitalists,  sometimes  rent  houses  and  money  to  the  idle  capi- 
talists :  But  the  latter  pay  the  rent  only  with  their  own  revenues  ;  and 
to  find  the  formation  of  these  revenues  we  must  always  remount  to  in' 
•lustrious  capitalists.  As  to  lands  they  almost  always  rent  them  to  un- 
dertakers of  culture,  for  what  would  the  idle  make  of  them  ? 


1/0 

and  sometimes  several  times  in  the  year,  when  the 
course  of  commerce  is  sufficiently  rapid  to  enable 
them  to  do  so  r  for,  as  in  their  quality  of  industrious 
men  they  make  no  expenditures  which  do  not  re- 
turn to  them  with  profit,  the  more  of  them  they  can 
make  which  fulfil  this  condition,  the  greater  will  be 
their  profit.  We  see  then  that  their  consump- 
tion is  immense,  and  that  the  number  of  hirelings 
whom  they  feed  is  truly  prodigious. 

We  must  now  distinguish  two  parties  in  this  enor- 
mous consumption.  All  which  is  made  by  these 
industrious  men  for  their  own  enjoyment,  and  for 
the  satisfaction  of  their  own  wants  and  those  of  their 
family,  is  definitive  and  lost  without  return,  like 
that  of  the  idle  capitalists.  On  the  whole  it  is  mo- 
derate, for  industrious  men  arr  commonly  frugal, 
and  too  often  not  very  rich.  But  all  which  they 
make  for  the  support  of  their  industry,  and  for  the 
service  of  this  industry,  is  nothing  less  than  defini- 
tive,— it  returns  to  them  with  profit ;  and,  that  this 
industry  may  be  sustained,  its  profits  must  at  least 
be  equal  not  only  to  their  personal  and  defini  ive 
consumption,  but  also  to  the  rent  of  the  land  and 
money  which  they  hold  of  the  idle  capitalists, 
which  rent  is  their  sole  revenue,  and  the  only  fund 
of  their  annual  expense.  If  the  profits  of  the  active 
capitalists  were  less  than  these  necessary  previous 
levies,  their  funds  would  be  encroached  on  ;  they 
would  be  obliged  to  diminish  their  enterprizes  ; 
they  could  no  longer  hire  the  same  quantity  of  la- 
bour ;  they  would  even  be  disgusted  with  hiring 
and  directing  this  unfruitful  labour.  In  the  contra- 
ry case  they  have  an  increase  of  funds,  by  means 


171 

of  which  they  can  increase  their  business,  and  their 
demand  for  labour,  if  they  can  find  a  method  of 
employing  it  usefully 

I  shall  be  asked,  how  these  undertakers  of  indus- 
try are  able  to  make  such  great  profits,  and  from, 
whom  they  can  draw  them  ?  I  answer,  that  it  is  by 
selling  whatever  they  produce  for  more  than  it  has 
cost  them  to  produce  it.  And  this  is  sold,  first,  to 
themselves  for  all  that  part  of  their  consumption 
which  is  destined  to  the  satisfaction  of  their  own 
wants,  which  they  pay  for  with  a  portion  of  their 
profits ;  Secondly,  to  hirelings,  as  well  those  in 
their  pay  as  in  the  pay  of  the  idle  capitalists  ;  from 
which  hirelings  they  draw  by  this  mean  the  whole 
of  their  wages,  except  the  small  savings  they  may 
possibly  be  able  to  make ;  Thirdly,  to  the  idle 
capitalists,  who  pay  them  with  the  part  of  their 
revenue  which  they  have  not  already  given  to 
the  hirelings  whom  they  employ  directly,  so  that 
all  the  rent  which  they  annually  disburse  returns 
to  them  by  one  or  the  other  of  these  ways. 

This  is  what  completes  that  perpetual  motion  of 
riches,  which  although  little  understood  has  been  ve- 
ry well  called  circulation  :  for  it  is  really  circular,* 
and  always  returns  to  the  point  from  whence  it  de- 
parted. This  point  is  that  of  production.  The 
undertakers  of  industry  are  really  the  heart  of  the 
body  politic,  and  their  capitals  are  its  blood.  With 
these  capitals  they  pay  the  wages  of  the  greatest 
part  of  the  hirelings  ;  they  pay  their  rents  to  all 

*  And  why  is  it  circular  and  continual  ?  Because  consumption  con- 
tinually destroys  that  which  has  been  produced.  If  reproduction  did 
not  incessantly  establish  it,  all  would  be  finished  after  the  first  turn. 


172 

the  idle  capitalists,  possessors  either  of  land  or  mo 
ney  ;  and  by  them  the  wages  of  all  the  remaining 
hirelings  ; — and  all  this  returns  to  them  by  the  ex- 
penditures in  all  these  ways,  which  pay  them  more 
for  what  they  have  had  produced  from  the  labour  of 
their  immediate  hirelings,  than  the  wages  of  these, 
and  the  rent  of  the  land  and  money  borrowed,  have 
cost  them- 

But  1  shall  be  told,  if  this  is  really  so,  if  the  un- 
dertakers of  industry  in  fact  reap  annually  more 
than  they  have  sown,  they  should  in  a  short  time 
obtain  possession  of  all   the  public  wealth  ;  and 
there  would  remain  in  a  state  but  hirelings  without 
any  thing  in  advance,  and  undertakers  with  capi- 
tals.    This  is  true,  and  things  would  be  effectively 
thus  if  these  undertakers,  or  their  heirs,  did  not  re- 
tire  from  business  in  proportion  as  they  become 
rich,  and  continually  recruit  the  class  of  idle  capi- 
talists. And,  notwithstanding  this  frequent  emigra- 
tion, it  happens  still  that  when  industry  has  operat- 
ed for  a  considerable  time  in  a  country,  without  too 
great  disturbances,  its  capitals  are  always  augment- 
ed not  only  in  proportion  to  the  increase  of  total 
wealth,  but  yet  in  a  much  greater.     To  be  assured 
of  this,  we  have  only  to  see  how  slender  these  capi- 
tals were,  through  all  Europe,  three  or  four  centu- 
ries ago,  in  comparison  with  the  immense  riches  of 
all  the  powerful  men,  and  how  much  they  are  mul- 
tiplied and  increased  at  the  present  day,  while  the 
others  have  diminished.     We  may  add  that  this 
effect  would  be  still  much  more  sensible,  were  it  not 
for  the  immense  levies  which  all  governments  an- 
nually raise  on  the  industrious  class  by  means  of 


173 

imposts  ;  but  it  is  not  yet  time  to  occupy  ourselves 
with  this  subject. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  observe,  that  at  the  com- 
mencement of  society,  before  riches  have  become 
very  unequal,  there  are  scarcely  any  simple  hire- 
lings,  and  still  fewer  idle  capitalists.     Every  one 
working  for  himself,  and  making  exchanges  with 
his  neighbours,  is  a  real  undertaker,  or  momentari- 
ly a  hireling  when  he  occasionally  works  for  another 
for  a  recompense.     Even  afterwards,  when  the  dif- 
ferent conditions  have  become  more  separate  by  the 
effect  of  inequality,  the  same  man  may  and  often 
does  appertain  to  several  at  the  same  time.     Thus 
a  simple  hireling,  who  has  some  small  savings  plac- 
ed at  interest,  is  in  this  respect  an  idle  capitalist; 
as  is  also  an  undertaker  who  has  a  part  of  his  funds 
realised  in  leased  lands  ;  while  a  proprietor  of  like 
lands,  or  a  lessor  who  is  a  public  functionary,  is  in 
this  respect  a  hireling.     But  it  is  not  less  true,  that 
those  who  live  on  wages,  those  who  live  on  rents,  and 
those  who  live  on  profits,  constitute  three  classes  of 
men  essentially  different ;  and  that  it  is  the  last 
which  aliment  all  the  others,  and  who  alone  aug- 
ment the  public  wealth,  and  create  all  our  means 
of  enjoyment.     This  must  be  so,  since  labour  is  the 
scource  of  all  riches, — and  since  they  alone  give  an 
useful  direction  to  the  actual  labour,  by  a  useful  im- 
provement of  the  labour  accumulated. 

I  hope  it  will  be  remarked,  how  well  this  man- 
ner of  considering  the  consumption  of  our  riches 
agrees  with  all  we  have  said  of  their  production  and 
distribution  :*  and,  at  the  same  time,  how  much 

*  In  fact  we  here  see  clearly,  why  production  is  arrested,  when  the 
fruitful  consumption  of  industry  can  no  longer  be  augmented,  and 


light  it  throws  on  the  whole  course  of  society 
Whence  comes  this  accordancy  and  this  lucidness  ? 
From  this,  that  we  have  struck  on  the  truth.     This 
resembles  the  effect  of  those  mirrors  in  which  ob- 
jects are.  represented  distinctly,  and  in  their  just 
proportions  when  one  is  placed  in  the  true  point  of 
view ;  and  where  every  thing  appears  confused,  and 
disunited,  when  one  is  too  near  or  too  distant.     So 
here,  so  soon  as  it  is  acknowledged  that  our  facul- 
ties are  our  only  original  riches,  that  our  labour 
alone  produces    all   others,    and    that   all   labour 
well  directed  is  productive,  every  thing  explains  it- 
self with  admirable  facility;  but  when,  with  many 
political  writers,  you  acknowledge  no  labour  as 
productive  but  that  of  culture,  or  place  the  source 
of  riches  in  consumption,  you  encounter  in  advanc- 
ing nothing  but  obscurity,  confusion  and  inextrica- 
ble embarrassments.     I   have   already   refuted  the 
first  of  these  two  opinions — I  shall  soon  discuss  the 
second.    For  the  moment,  let  us  conclude  that  there 
are  three  kinds  of  consumers, — the  hirelings,  the 
lessors,  and  the  undertakers, — that  the  consumption 
of  the  first  is  real  and  definitive  ;  but  that  it  must 
not  be  counted,  because  it  makes  a  part  of  the  con- 
sumption of  those  who  employ  them;  that  that  of 
the  lessors  is  definitive  and  destructive ;  and  that 
that  of  the  undertaker  is  fruitful,  because  it  is  repla- 
ced by  a  superior  production. 

If  consumption  is  very  different,  according  to  the 
species  of  consumers,  it  varies  likewise  according  to 
the  nature  of  the  things  consumed.  All  represent 
truly  labour  ;  but  its  value  is  fixed  more  solidly  in 

why  the  number  and  ease  of  men  increase  or  decrease  as  the  Indus- 
trv,  &.c.  &c. 


173 

some  than  in  others.  "As  much  pains  may  have  been 
taken  to  prepare  an  artificial  fire  work  as  to  find  and 
cut  a  diamond ;  and,  consequently,  one  may  have  as 
much  value  as  the  other.  But  when  I  have  pur- 
chased, paid  for,  and  employed  the  one  and  the 
other, — at  the  end  of  half  an  hour  nothing  remains 
of  the  first,  and  the  second  may  still  be  the  resource 
of  my  descendants  a  century  to  come,  even  if  used 
every  day  as  an  ornament  of  dress.  It  is  the  same 
ease  with  what  are  called  immaterial  products.  A 
discovery  is  of  an  eternal  utility.  A  work  of  genius, 
a  picture,  are  likewise  of  an  utility  more  or  less  du- 
rable ;  while  that  of  a  ball,  concert,  a  theatrical  re- 
presentation, is  instantaneous  and  disappear  imme- 
diately. We  may  say  as  much  of  the  personal  ser- 
vices of  physicians,  of  lawyers,  of  soldiers,  of  domes- 
tics, and  generally  of  all  occasionally  called  on. 
Their  utility  is  that  of  the  moment  of  want. 

All  consumable  things,  of  what  nature  soever, 
may  be  placed  between  these  two  extremes,  of  the 
shortest  arid  longest  duration.  From  this  it  is  easy 
to  see,  that  the  most  ruinous  consumption  is  the  most 
prompt,  since  it  is  that  which  destroys  the  must  la- 
bour in  the  same  time,  or  an  equal  quantity  of  labour 
in  less  time.  In  comparison  with  this,  that  which  is 
slower  is  a  kind  of  hoarding  ;  since  it  leaves  to  fu- 
turity the  enjoyment  of  a  part  of  actual  sacrifices. 
This  is  so  clear  that  it  needs  no  proof :  for  every 
one  knows  that  it  is  more  economical  to  have  for 
the  same  price  a  coat  which  will  last  three  years, 
than  one  which  will  last  but  three  months  ;  accord- 
ingly this  truth  is  acknowledged  by  every  body. 
What,  is  singular,  is  that  it  should  be  so  even  by 


176 

those  who  regard  luxury  as  a  cause  of  wealth :  for  if 
to  destroy  is  so  good  a  thing,  it  seems  that  we  can- 
not destroy  too  much,  and  that  we  ought  to  think 
with  the  man  who  broke  all  his  furniture,  to  encou- 
rage industry. 

At  the  point  to  which  we  are  now  arrived,  I  do 
not  know  how  to  accost  the  pretended  mighty  ques- 
tion of  luxury,  so  much  and  so  often  debated  by 
celebrated  philosophers  and  renowned  politicians ; 
or,  rather,  I  do  not  know  how  to  shew  that  it  com- 
prehends any  matter  of  doubt,  nor  how  to  give  the 
appearance  of  a  little  plausibility  to  the  reasons  of 
those,  very  numerous  however,  who  maintain  that 
luxury  is  useful :  for,  when  preceding  ideas  have 
been  well  elucidated,  a  question  is  resolved  as  soon 
as  stated ;  and  this  is  now  the  case. 

In  effect,  he  who  names  luxury,  names  superflu- 
ous and  even  exaggerated  consumption ; — consump- 
tion is  destruction  of  utility.  Now  how  conceive 
that  exaggerated  destruction  can  be  the  cause  of 
riches — can  be  production?  It  is  repugnant  to  good 
sense. 

We  are  gravely  told  that  luxury  impoverishes  a 
small  state  and  enriches  a  large  one  ;  but  what  can 
extent  have  to  do  with  such  a  subject  ?  and  how 
comprehend,  that  what  ruins  an  hundred  men 
would  enrich  two  hundred. 

It  is  also  said  that  luxury  supports  a  numerous 
population.  Without  doubt  not  only  the  luxury  of 
the  rich,  but  likewise  the  simple  consumption  of  all 
the  idle  who  live  on  their  revenues,  supports  a  great 
number  of  hirelings.  But  what  becomes  of  the  la- 
bour of  these  hirelings  ?  Those  who  employ  them 


177 

consume  its  result,  and  nothing  of  it  remains  ;  and 
with  what  do-  they  pay  for  this  labour  ?  with  their 
revenues,  that  is  to  say  with  riches  already  acquired, 
of  which  in  a  short  time  nothing  will  remain.  There 
then  is' a  destruction,  not  an  augmentation  of  riches. 
But  let  us  go  further.  Whence  do  these  idle  men 
derive  their  revenues  ?  Is  it  not  from  the  rent  paid 
to  them  out  of  the  profits  of  those  who  employ  their 
capitals,  that  is  to  say  of  those  who  with  their  own 
funds  hire  labour  which  produces  more  than  it  costs, 
in  a  word  the  industrious  men  ?  To  these  then  we 
must  always  remount,  in  order  to  find  the  source 
of  all  wealth.  It  is  they  who  really  nourish  the  hire- 
ling whom  even  the  others  employ. 

But,  say  they,  luxury  animates  circulation,  These 
words  have  no  meaning.  They  forget  then  what  is 
circulation.  Let  us  recal  it.  With  time  a  greater  or 
smaller  quantity  of  riches  are  accumulated,  because 
the  result  of  anterior  labours,  has  not  been  entirely 
consumed  as  soon  as  produced.  Of  the  possessors 
of  these  riches  some  are  satisfied  with  drawing  arent 
and  living  on  it.  These  we  have  called  the  idle. 
Others  more  active,  employ  their  own  funds,  and 
those  which  they  hire.  They  employ  them  to  hire 
labour,  which  reproduces  them  with  profit.  With 
this  profit  they  pay  for  their  own  consumption,  and 
defray  that  of  the  others.  Even  by  these  consump- 
tions their  funds  return  to  them  a  little  increased, 
and  they  recommence.  This  is  what  constitutes  cir- 
culation. We  see  that  it  has  no  other  funds  than 
those  of  the  industrious  citizens.  It  can  only  aug- 
ment in  proportion  £s^ they  augment;  nor  be  acce- 
lerated, which  is  stttl  to  be  augmented,  but  in  pro- 


178 

portion  to  the  quickness  of  their  returns :  for  if  their 
funds  return  to  them  at  the  end  of  six  months,  instead 
of  a  year,  they  would  employ  them  twice  a  year  in- 
stead of  once ;  and  this  is  as  if  they  employed  the 
double.  But  the  idle  proprietors  can  do  nothing  of 
this.  They  can  but  consume  their  rents  in  one  way 
or  another.  If  they  consume  more  one  year  they 
must  consume  less  another ;  if  they  do  otherwise 
they  encroach  on  their  capitals.  They  are  obliged 
to  sell  them.  But  they  can  only  be  purchased  with 
funds  belonging  to  industrious  men,  or  lent  to  them, 
and  who  paid  for  labour,  which  they  will  no  longer 
pay  for,  and  for  labour  more  useful  than  that  em- 
ployed by  the  prodigals.  Thus  this  is  not  an  aug- 
mentation of  the  total  mass  of  expense,  it  is  but  a 
transposition,  a  change  of  some  of  its  parts,  and  a 
disadvantageous  change.  Thus  even  in  ruining 
themselves,  the  men  who  live  on  their  revenues  can- 
not increase  the  mass  of  wages  and  of  circulation. 
They  could  do  it  only  by  a  conduct  quite  opposite, 
by  not  consuming  the  whole  of  their  rent,  and  by 
appropriating  a  part  of  it  to  fruitful  expenditures. 
But  then  they  would  be  far  from  abandoning  them- 
selves, to  the  exaggerated  and  superfluous  consump- 
tion called  luxury.  They  would  devote  themselves 
on  the  contrary  to  useful  speculations,  they  would 
range  themselves  in  the  industrious  class. 

Montesquieu,  who  in  other  respects  understood 
political  economy  very  badly,*  believes  the  profu- 
sions of  the  rich  very  useful ;  "  because,  says  he, 
(book  7th,  chap.  1th,)  if  the  rich  do  not  spend  a  great 

*  Montesquieu  was  a  very  great  Aan,  but  the  science  was  no1 
buUt  \n  his  time ;  it  is  quite  recent. 


179 

deal,  the  poor  must  die  of  famine."  We  perceive 
from  these  few  words,  and  many  others,  that  he  did 
not  know  either  whence  the  revenues  of  those  whom 
he  calls  rich  are  derived  or  what  becomes  of  them. 
Once  more  I  repeat  the  revenues  of  the  idle  rich, 
are  but  rents  levied  on  industry  ;  it  is  industry  alone 
which  gives  them  birth.  Their  possessors  can  do 
nothing  to  augment  them,  they  only  scatter  them, 
arid  they  cannot  avoid  scattering  them.  For  if  they 
do  not  expend  the  whole  for  their  enjoyments,  un- 
less they  cast  the  surplus  into  the  river  or  bury  it, 
which  is  a  rare  folly,  they  replace  it,  that  is  to 
say  they  form  with  it  new  funds  for  industry,  which 
it  employs.  Thus  even  by  economising  they  pay 
for  the  same  quantity  of  labour.  All  the  difference 
is  that  they  pay  for  useful  instead  of  useless  labour, 
and  that  out  of  the  profits  procured,  they  create  for 
themselves  a  new  rent,  which  will  augment  the  pos- 
sibility of  their  future  consumption. 

Luxury,  exaggerated  and  superfluous  consump- 
tion, is  therefore  never  good  for  any  thing,  econom- 
ically speaking.  It  can  only  have  an  indirect  util- 
ity. Which  is  by  ruining  the  rich,  to  take  from  the 
hands  of  idle  men  those  funds  which,  being  dis- 
tributed amongst  those  who  labour,  may  enable 
them  to  economise,  and  thus  form  capitals  in  the  in- 
dustrious class.  But  first  this  would  go  directly 
contrary  to  the  intention  of  Montesquieu,  who  be- 
lieves luxury  advantageous,  especially  in  a  mo- 
narchy; and  who  at  the  same  time  thinks,  that 
the  preservation  of  the  same  families,  and  the 
perpetuity  of  their  splendor  is  essentially  necessary 
to  this  kind  of  government.  Moreover  we  must  ob. 


180 

serve  with  M.  Say,  that  a  taste  for  superfluous  ex- 
penses has  its  foundation  in  vanity,  that  it  cannot 
exist  in  the  superior  class  without  gradually  extend- 
ing itself  into  all  the  others ;  that  it  is  there  still 
more  fatal,  because  their  means  are  less,  and  be- 
cause it  absorbs  funds  of  which  they  made  a  better 
use  ;  and  thus  it  every  where  substitutes  useless  for 
useful  expenses,  and  dries  up  the  source  of  riches. 
All  this  is  in  my  opinion  incontestable. 

Accordingly,  our  politicians  no  longer  content 
themselves  with  vaguely  saying,  that  luxury  con- 
stitutes the  prosperity  of  the  state,  that  it  animates 
circulation,  that  it  enables  the  poor  to  live.  They 
have  made  a  theory  for  themselves.  They  establish 
as  a  general  principle,  that  consumption  is  the 
cause  of  production,  that  it  is  its  measure,  that 
thus  it  is  well  it  should  be  very  great.  They  af- 
firm that  it  is  this  which  makes  the  great  difference 
between  public  and  private  economy.  They  dare 
not  always  positively  say,  that  the  more  a  nation 
consumes  the  more  it  enriches  itself.  But  they  per- 
suade themselves,  and  maintain  that  we-  must  not 
reason  on  the  public  fortune  as  on  that  of  an  indi- 
yidual,  and  they  regard  those  as  very  narrow  minds 
which  in  their  simplicity  believe  that  in  all  cases 
good  economy  is  to  be  economical,  that  is  to  say  to 
make  an  useful  employment  of  his  means.*  There 

*  See  M.  Germain  Gamier,  in  his  elementary  principles  of  political 
economy  abridged.  Paris  printed  by  Agasse,  1796.  Page  xii  of  his  ad- 
vertisement, he  says,  formally,  "  The  principles  which  serve  as  guides 
in  the  administration  of  a  private  fortune,  and  those  by  which  the 
public  fortune  should  be  directed,  not  only  differ  between  themselves, 
but  are  often  in  direct  opposition  to  each  other.'*  And  page  xiii, 
"  The  fortune  of  an  individual  is  increased  by  saving ;  the  public  for- 


181 

is  in  all  this  a  confusion  of  ideas,  which  it  is  well 
to  dispel  and  to  restore  light. 

Certainly  consumption  is  the  cause  of  produc- 
tion ;  in  this  sense,  that  we  only  produce  in  order 
to  consume,  and  that  if  we  had  no  wants  to  satisfy 
we  should  never  take  the  trouble  of  producing  any 
thing.  Nothing  would  then  be  to  us  either  useful 
or  hurtful.  It  is  also  the  cause,  in  this  sense,  why 
industrious  men  produce  only  because  they  find 
consumers  of  their  productions.  Hence  it  is  said, 
with  reason,  that  the  true  method  of  encouraging 
industry  is  to  enlarge  the  extent  of  the  market, 
and  thereby  augment  the  possibility  of  selling. 
Under  this  point  of  view,  it  is  also  true  to  say  that 
consumption  is  the  measure  of  production,  for  where 
vent  ceases  production  stops.  This  has  also  made 
us  say,  that  establishments  of  industry  cannot  be 
multiplied  beyond  a  certain  term  ;  and  that  this 
term  is  where,  they  cease  to  yield  a  profit  :  for  then 
it  is  evident,  that  what  they  produce  is  not  worth 
what  they  consume.  But  from  all  this  it  does  not 
follow,  for  a  nation  any  more  than  for  an  individu- 
al, that  to  expend  is  to  enrich  5  nor  that  we 


tune,  on  the  contrary,  receives  its  increase  from  the  augmentation  of 
consumption."  Page  130,  in  the  chapter  on  circulation,  he  likewise 
says,  "The  annual  production  ought  naturally  to  be  regulated  by 
the  annual  consumption."  Also,  in  the  chapter  on  public  debt,  page 
240,  he  adds,  "  The  amendment  and  extension  of  culture,  and  conse- 
quently the  progress  of  industry  and  commerce,  have  no  other  cause 
than  the  extension  of  artificial  wants;"  and  concludes  from  this  that 
public  debts  are  good  things,  inasmuch  as  they  augment  these  wants. 
The  same  doctrine,  joined  to  the  idea  that  culture  is  alone  produc- 
tive, runs  through  his  whole  work,  and  his  notes  on  Smith.  Al}  this 
is  very  superficial  and  very  loose. 


182 

augment  our  expenses  at  pleasure  ;  nor  even  that 
luxury  augments  them,  for  it  only  changes  them. 
We  must  always  return  to  production ;  this  is  the 
point  of  departure.  To  enjoy  we  must  produce ; — 
this  is  the  first  step.  We  produce  only  by  avail- 
ing ourselves  of  riches  already  acquired :  the  more 
we  have  of  them,  the  greater  are  our  means  of  pro- 
ducing ;  they  are  consumed  in  expenses  of  produc- 
tions, they  return  with  profit.  We  can  expend 
annually  but  this  annual  profit.  The  more  of  it  we 
employ  in  useless  things,  the  less  will  remain  for 
those  which  are  useful.  If  we  go  beyond  them., 
we  break  in  on  our  capital ;  reproduction,  and  con- 
sequently future  consumption,  will  be  diminished 
They  may,  on  the  contrary,  be  augmented  if  sav- 
ings are  made  with  which  to  form  new  capitals. 
Once  more,  then,  consumption  is  not  riches ;  and 
there  is  nothing  useful,  under  an  .economical  point 
of  view,  but  that  which  reproduces  itself  with 
profit. 

No  sophistry  can  ever  shake  truths  so  constant. 
If  they  have  been  mistaken,  it  is  because  the  effect 
has  been  taken  for  the  cause  $  and,  what  is  more, 
a  disagreeable  effect  for  a  benificent  cause.  We 
have  seen,  that  when  a  nation  becomes  rich  a  great 
inequality  of  fortunes  is  established,  and  that  the 
possessors  of  large  fortunes  addict  themselves  to 
great  luxury.  It  has  been  believed  that  this  causes 
a  country  to  prosper  ;  and  hastily  concluded  that 
inequality  and  luxury  are  two  very  good  things. 
They  ought,  on  the  contrary,  to  have  seen  that 
these  are  two  inconveniences  attached  to  prosperi- 


183 

ty  :*  that  the  riches  which  cause  them  are  acquired 
before  they  exist ;  and  that  if  these  riches  continue 
still  to  increase,  it  is  in  spite  of  the  existence  of 
these  inconveniences,  and  through  the  effect  of  the 
good  habits  of  activity  and  economy  which  they 
have  not  been  able  entirely  to  destroy.  But  the 
strongest  personal  interests  contribute  to  give  credit 
to  this  error.  Powerful  men  are  unwilling  to  ac- 
knowledge that  their  existence  is  an  evil,  and 
that  their  expense  is  as  useless  as  their  persons. 
On  the  contrary,  they  endeavour  to  impose  by 
pomp ;  and  it  is  not  their  fault  if  we  do  not  be- 
lieve that  they  render  a  great  service  to  the  state, 
by  swallowing  up  a  great  portion  of  the  means  of 
existence,  and  that  there  is  much  merit  in  knowing 
how  to  dissipate  great  riches. f  On  the  other  hand, 

*  We  have  already  seen,  in  the  preceding  chapter,  how  inequality 
of  riches  is  established,  or  rather  increases  in  society ;  and,  when 
we  shall  treat  of  legislation,  we  will  likewise  show  that  the  excess  of 
inequality,  and  of  luxury,  is  still  more  the  effect  of  bad  laws  than  of 
tiie  natural  cause  of  things. 

•j-  It  is  incredible  to  what  length  of  illusion  self-love  leads,  and 
induces  one  to  exaggerate  to  himself  his  personal  importance.  I 
have  seen  men  obliged,  Ly  the  troubles  of  the  times,  to  quit  their 
castles,  who  really  believed  that  the  whole  village  would  want  work 
— without  perceiving  that  it  was  their  farmer,  and  not  themselves, 
who  paid  the  greatest  part  of  the  wages  ;  and  sincerely  persuade 
themselves  that  even  if  their  peasants  should  divide  their  effects, 
or  should  buy  them  at  a  low  price,  they  would  only  be  the  more 
miserable. 

I  do  not  pretend  to  say  that  it  was  well  done  either  to  drive  them 
away,  or  to  despoil  them  ;  nor  even  that  such  means  can  ever  be  the 
cause  of  a  durable  prosperity.  I  have  made  my  profession  of  faith *on 
the  necessity  of  .respect  for  property  and  justice  in  general.  But  it 
is  not  the  less  true,  that  the  absence  of  an  useless  man  makes  no 
change  in  the  course  of  things,  or  at  most  only  changes  the  place  of 
apart  of  his  small  personal  expenses;  and  that  the  mere  suppression 
of  some  feudal  rights,  produces  more  good  to  a  country  than  all  the 
benefits  of  him  who  levied  them. 


those  who  depend  on  them  on  whom  they  impose 
awe,  and  who  profit  by  their  expenses,  care  very 
little  whether  the  money  they  receive  from  them 
would  be  better  employed  elsewhere,  or  if  by  being 
better  employed  it  would  enable  a  greater  number 
of  men  to  live.  They  desire  that  this  expense  on 
which  they  live  should  be  very  great ;  and  they 
firmly  believe  that  if  it  should  diminish,  they  would 
be  without  resources :  for  they  do  not  see  what 
would  replace  it.  It  is  thus  that  general  opinion 
is  led  astray,  and  that  those  even  who  suffer  from 
it  are  ignorant  of  the  cause  of  their  evils.  Never- 
theless, it  is  certain  that  the  vicious  consumption 
called  luxury,  and  in  general  all  the  consumption 
of  idle  capitalists,  far  from  being  useful,  destroys 
the  greater  part  of  the  means  of  a  nation's  prospe- 
rity ;  and  this  is  so  true,  that  from  the  moment  in 
which  a  country,  which  has  industry  and  know- 
ledge,  is  by  any  mean  delivered  from  this  scourge, 
we  see  there  immediately  an  increase  of  riches  and 
of  strength  truly  prodigious. 

What  reason  demonstrates  history  proves  by 
facts.  When  was  Holland  capable  of  efforts  truly 
incredible?  When  her  admirals  lived  as  her  sailors 
did — when  the  arms  of  all  her  citizens  were  em- 
ployed in  enriching  or  defending  the  state ;  and 
none  in  cultivating  tulips,  or  paying  for  pictures. 
All  subsequent  events,  political  and  commercial, 
have  united  in  causing  its  decline.  It  has  preserved 
the  spirit  of  economy — it  has  still  considerable 
riches  in  a  country  in  which  every  other  people 
could  with  difficulty  live.  Make  of  Amsterdam 
ihe  residence  of  a  gallant  and  magnificient  court. 


185 

transform  its  vessels  into  embroidered  clothes,  and 
its  magazines  into  ball  rooms ;  and  you  will  see  if 
in  a  very  few  years  they  will  have  remaining  even 
the  means  of  defending  themselves  against  the  ir- 
ruptions of  the  sea. 

When  did  England,  in  spite  of  its  misfortunes 
and  faults,  exhibit  a  prodigious  development?  Was 
it  under  Cromwell  or  under  Charles  the  second  ?  I 
know  that  moral  causes  have  much  more  power 
than  economical  calculations  ;  but  I  say  that  these 
moral  causes  do  not  so  prodigiously  augment  all 
bur  resources,  but  because  they  direct  all  our  ef- 
forts towards  solid  objects  :  Hence  means  are  not 
wanting,  either  to  the  state  or  to  individuals,  for 
great  objects,  because  they  have  not  been  employed 
in  futilities. 

Why  do  the  citizens  of  the  United  States  of 
North  America  double,  every  twenty-five  years, 
their  culture,  their  industry,  their  commerce,  their 
riches,  and  their  population  ?  It  is  because  there  is 
scarcely  an  idler  among  them,  and  the  rich  go  to 
little  superfluous  expense.  Their  position,  I  agree, 
is  very  favourable.  Land  is  not  wanting  for  their 
development :  it  offers  itself  to  their  labours,  and 
recompences  them.  But  if  they  laboured  little, 
and  expended  much,  this  land  would  remain  un- 
cultivated— they  would  grow  poor,  would  languish ; 
and  would  be  very  miserable,  as  the  Spaniards 
are,  notwithstanding  all  their  advantages.  Their 
neighbours,  the  Canadians,  do  they  make  the  same 
progress  ?  They  are  gentlemen,  living  nobly,  and 
doing  nothing. 
35 


183 

Finally,  let  us  take  a  last  example,  much  more 
striking  still.  France,  under  its  ancient  govern- 
ment, was  not  certainly  as  miserable  as  the  French 
themselves  have  represented  it  to  be ;  but  it  was 
not  flourishing.  Its  population*  and  its  agricul- 
ture were  not  retrograde,  but  they  were  stationary ; 
or  if  they  made  some  small  progress,  it  was  less 
than  that  of  several  neighbouring  nations,  and  con- 
sequently not  proportioned  to  the  progress  of  the 
knowledge  of  the  age.  She  was  involved  in  debt 
— had  no  credit- — was  always  in  want  of  funds  for 
her  useful  expenses — she  felt  herself,  incapable 
of  supporting  the  ordinary  expenses  of  her  govern- 
ment, and  still  more  of  making  any  great  efforts 
without:  In  a  word,  notwithstanding  the  genius, 
the  number,  and  the  activity  of  her  inhabitants,  the 
richness  and  extent  of  her  soil,  and  the  benefits  of 
a  very  long  peace,  little  troubled,  she  with  difficul- 
ty maintained  her  rank  among  her  rivals  ;  and  was 
of  but  little  considefation,  and  in  nowise  formida- 
ble abroad. 

Her  revolution  takes  place  :  She  has  suffered  all 
imaginable  evils  :  She  has  been  torn  by  atrocious 
wars,  cjvil  and  foreign  :  Several  of  her  provinces 
have  been  laid  waste,  and  their  cities  reduced  to 
ashes  :  All  have  been  pillaged  by  brigands,  and  by 
the  furnishers  of  the  troops  :  Her  exterior  commerce 
has  been  annihilated  :  Her  fleets  totally  destroyed  ; 

*  I  desire  it  to  be  remembered,  that  I  do  not  regard  the  augmen- 
tation of  population  as  a  good.  It  is  but  too  often  a  multiplication  of 
miserable  beings.  I  should  greatly  prefer  the'augmentution  of  well 
being.  I  cite  here  the  increase  of  the  number  of  men  as  a  symptom 
only,  and  not  as  a  happiness.  The  abuse  of  competence  is  a  proof 
of  its  existence. 


187 

chough  often  renewed  :  Her  colonies,  believed  so 
necessary  to  her  prosperity,  have  been  prostrated ; 
and,  what  is  worse,  she  has  lost  all  the  men  and 
money  lavished  to  subjugate  them  :  Her  specie  has 
been  nearly  all  exported,  as  well  by  the  effect  of 
emigration,  as  by  that  of  paper  money  :  She  has 
supported  fourteen  armies  in  a  time  of  famine  5 
and,  amidst  all  this,  it  is  notorious  that  her  popu- 
lation and  her  agriculture  have  augmented  conside- 
rably in  a  very  few  years  ;  and  at  the  epoch  of 
the  creation  of  the  empire — without  any  improve- 
ment in  her  situation  as  to  the  sea  and  foreign  com- 
merce, to  which  so  great  importance  is  commonly 
attributed,  without  having  had  a  single  instant  of 
peace  for  repose, — she  supported  enormous-  taxes, 
made  immense  expenditures  in  public  works, — -she 
effected  all  without  a  loan ;  and  she  had  a  colossal 
power,  which  nothing  on  the  continent  of  Europe 
could  resist,  and  which  would  have  subjugated  the 
universe,  but  for  the  British  navy.  What  then 
took  place  in  this  country  which  could  produce 
such  inconceivable  effects !  one  circumstance  chang- 
ed has  done  the  whole. 

"Under  the  ancient  order  of  things,  the  greater 
part  of  the  useful  labour  of  the  inhabitants  of 
France  was  employed  every  year  in  producing  the 
riches  which  formed  the  immense  revenues  of  the 
court,  and  of  all  the  rich  class  of  society ;  arid  these 
revenues  were  almost  entirely  consumed  in  the  ex- 
penditures of  luxury  ;  that  is  to  say,  in  paying  an 
enormous  mass  of  population,  whose  whole  labour 
reproduced  absolutely  nothing  but  the  enjoyments 
of  some  men.  In  a  moment  almost  the  \vhole  of 


188 

these  revenues,  have  passed  partly  into  the  hands 
of  the  new  government,  partly  into  those  of  the 
laborious  class.  They  fed  also  all  those  who  de- 
rive their  subsistence  from  them ;  but  their  labour 
was  applied  to  useful  or  necessary  things ;  and  it 
has  sufficed  to  defend  the  state  from  without,  and 
to  increase  its  productions  within.  * 

Ought  we  to  be  surprised  when  we  consider  that 
there  was  a  time,  of  some  length,  during  which,  by 
the  effect  even  of  commotion  and  of  the  general 
distress,  there  was  scarcely  in  France  a  single  idle 
citizen,  or  one  occupied  in  useless  labours  ?  Those 
who  before  made  coaches,  made  carriages  for  can- 
non ;  those  who  made  embroidery  and  laces,  made 
coarse  woollens  and  linens ;  those  who  ornamented 
boudoirs,  built  parks  and  cleared  land.  And  even 
those  who  in  peace  rioted  in  all  these  inutilities, 
were  forced  to  gain  a  subsistence  by  the  perform 
ance  of  services  which  were  wanting.  A  man  who 
kept  forty  useless  domestics  left  them  to  be  hired 
by  the  industrious  class,  or  by  the  state,  and  him- 
self become  a  clerk  of  an  office.  This  is  the  secret 
of  those  prodigious  resources  always  found  by  the 
body  of  a  nation  in  a  crisis  so  great.  It  then  turns 
to  profit  all  the  force  which  in  ordinary  times  it 
suffered  to  be  lost,  without  being  aware  of  it ;  and 
we  are  frightened  at  seeing  how  great  that  is. 

This  is  the  substance  of  all  that  is  true  in  col- 
lege declamations  on  frugality,  sobriety,  abhorrence 
of  ostentation ;  and  all  those  democratical  virtues  of 

*  The  sole  suppression  of  the  feudal  rights  and  tythes,  partly  to 
the  profit  of  cultivators,  and  partly  of  the  state,  enabled  the  one 
greatly  to  increase  their  industry,  and  the  other  to  lay  an  enormous 
mass  of  new  imposts;  and  these  were  but  a  small  part  of  the  reve- 
nues of  the  class  of  useless  consumers. 


189 

poor  ami  agricultural  nations,  which  are  so  ridicu- 
lously vaunted  without  either  their  cause  or  effect 
being  understood.  It  is  not  because  they  are  poor 
and  ignorant  that  these  nations  are  strong ;  it  is  be- 
cause nothing  is  lost  of  the  little  force  they  possess, 
and  that  a  man  who  has  an  hundred  francs,  and  em- 
ploys them  well,  has  more  means  than  he  who  has 
a  thousand  and  loses  them  at  play.  But  let  the 
same  be  done  by  a  rich  and  enlightened  nation,  and 
you  will  see  the  same  development  of  force  which 
you  have  seen  in  the  French  nation,  which  has  pro- 
duced effects  greatly  superior  to  all  that  was  ever 
executed  by  the  Roman  republic :  for  it  has  over- 
thrown much  greater  obstacles.  Let  Germany,  for 
example,  during  some  years  only,  leave  entirely  in, 
the  hands  of  the  industrious  class  the  revenues  which 
serve  for  the  pageantry  of  all  its  small  courts,  and 
rich  abbies,  and  you  will  see  whether  she  will  be  a 
strong  and  formidable  nation.  On  the  contrary, 
suppose  they  should  entirely  re-establish  in  France 
the  ancient  order  of  things,  that  a  great  mass  of  pro- 
perty should  return  into  the  hands  of  idle  men,  that 
the  government  should  continue  to  enrich  favourites 
and  make  great  expenditures  in  useless  tilings,  you 
would  again  see  there  immediately,  notwithstanding 
its  great  increase  of  territory,  languor  in  the  midst 
of  resources,  misery  in  the  midst  of  riches,  and  weak- 
ness in  the  midst  of  all  the  means  of  strength. 

It  will  be  repeated  that  I  attribute  solely  to  the 
distribution  of  riches,  and  to  the  employment  of  the 
labour  they  pay,  the  result  of  a  multitude  of  moral 
causes  of  the  greatest  energy.  Once  more,  I  do  not 
deny  the  existence  of  these  causes  ;  I  acknowledge 


190 

it  as  ail  others  do  ;  but  I  do  more,  1  explain  their 
effect.  I  agree  that  the  enthusiasm  of  interior  lib- 
erty  and  exterior  independence,  and  the  indignation 
against  an  unjust  oppression,  and  a  still  more  un- 
just aggression,  have  alone  been  able  to  operate 
these  great  revolutions  in  France ;  but  I  maintain 
that  these  have  not  furnished  the  passions  with 
such  great  means  of  success,  (notwithstanding  the 
errors  and  horrors  to  which  their  violence  led)  but 
because  they  produced  a  better  employment  of  all 
the  national  force.  All  the  good  of  human  society 
is  in  the  good  application  of  labour ;  all  the  evil  in 
its  loss  ;  which,  in  other  words,  means  nothing  but 
that  when  men  are  occupied  in  providing  for  their 
wants  they  are  satisfied,  and  that  when  they  lose 
their  time  they  suffer.  One  is  ashamed  to  be  obli- 
ged to  prove  so  palpable- a  truth;  but  we  must  re- 
collect that  the  extent  of  its  consequences  are  sur- 
prising. 

One  might  compose  a  whole  book  on  luxury,  and 
it  would  be  useful,  for  this  subject  has  never  been 
well  treated.  It  might  be  shown  that  luxury,  that 
is  to  say  the  taste  for  superfluous  expense,  is  to  a  cer- 
tain point  the  necessary  effect  of  the  natural  disposi- 
tionsof  man  to  procure  constantly  new  enjoyments, 
when  he  has  the  means ;  and  of  the  power  of  habit, 
which  renders  necessary  to  him  the  conveniences 
he  has  enjoyed,  even  when  it  shall  have  become 
burdensome  to  him  to  continue  to  procure  them  : 
that  consequently  luxury  is  an  inevitable  result  of 
industry,  the  progress  of  which  it  nevertheless  ar- 
rests ;  and  of  riches,  which  it  tends  to  destroy ;  and 
that  for  the  same  reason,  also,  when  a  nation  is 


191 

fallen  from  its  ancient  grandeur,  whether  from  the 
slow  effect  of  luxury  or  from  any  other  cause,  it  sur- 
vives the  prosperity  which  has  given  birth  to  it  and 
renders  its  return  impossible,  unless  some  violent 
shock,  directed  to  this  end,  should  produce  a  quick 
and  complete  regeneration.  It  is  the  same  with  in- 
dividuals. 

It  would  be  necessary  to  show,  according  to  these 
data,  that  in  the  opposite  situation,  when  a  nation 
takes  for  the  tirst  time  its  rank  among  civilised  people, 
it  is  requisite,  in  order  that  the  success  of  its  efforts 
may  be  complete,  that  the  progpss  of  its  industry 
and  knowledge  should  be  much  more  rapid  than 
that  of  its  luxury.  It  is,  perhaps,  principally  to 
this  circumstance  that  we  should  attribute  the  great 
advances  made  by  the  Prussian  monarchy  under  its 
second  and  third  king,  an  example  which  ought  to 
embarrass  a  little  those  who  pretend  that  luxury  is 
necessary  to  the  prosperity  of  monarchies.*  It  is 
this  same  circumstance  which  appears  to  me  to  en- 
sure the  duration  of  the  felicity  of  the  United  Spates  : 
and  it  may  be  feared  that  the  want  of  the  complete 
enjoyment  of  this  advantage,  will  render  difficult 
and  even  imperfect  the  true  prosperity  and  civiliza- 
tion of  Russia. 

It  would  be  necessary  to  say  which  are  the  most 
injurious  species  of  luxury.  We  might  consider 
unskilfulness  in  fabrication  as  a  great  luxury,  for  it 
causes  a  great  loss  of  time  and  of  labour.  It  would 
above  all  be  necessary  to  explain  how  the  great  for- 

*  If  luxury  is  necessary  in  a  monarchal  state,  it  is  for  the  security 
of  the  government,  but  not  for  the  prosperity  of  the  country. 


19S 

tunes  are  the  principal  and  almost  only  source  of 
luxury,  properly  so  called,  for  it  could  scarcely  ex- 
ist if  they  were  all  moderate.     JSven  idleness  in 
this  case  could  scarcely  have  place.    Now  this  is  a 
kind  of  luxury ;  since,  if  it  is  not  a  sterile  employ- 
ment of  labour,  it  is  a  suppression  of  it*     The 
branches  of  industry  which  rapidly  produce  immense 
riches  bring  then  with  them  an  inconvenience,  which 
strongly  counter-balances  their  advantages.     It  is 
not  these  we  ought  to  wish  to  see  first  developed  in 
a  rising  nation.     Of  this  kind  is  a  very  extensive 
foreign  commerce^  Agriculture,  on  the  contrary, 
is  greatly  preferable ;  its  products  are  slow  and  lim- 
ited.    Industry,  properly  so  called,  (that  of  manu- 
facture)  is  likewise  without  danger  and  very  use- 
ful.    Its  profits  are  not  excessive ;  its  success  is 
difficult  to  be  attained  and  perpetuated ;  it  requires 
much  knowledge,  and  many  estimable  qualities ; 
and  its  consequences  are  very  favourable  to  the  well 
being  of  consumers.  The  good  fabrication  of  objects 
of  first  necessity  is  above  all  desirable.     The  ma- 
nufactory of  objects  of  luxury  may  also  be  of  great 
advantage  to  a  country ;  but  it  is  when  their  pro- 
duce is  like  the  religion  of  the  court  of  Rome — 
which  is  said  to  be  for  th  at  court  an  article  of  ex- 
portation,  and  not  of  consumption ;  and  there  is 
always  a  fear  of  intoxicating  ourselves   with  the 
liquor  we  prepare  for  others.     All  these  observa- 

*  The  only  idle  who  ought  to  be  seen  without  reprobation,  are 
those  who  devote  themselves  to  study ;  and  especially  to  the  study  of 
man.  And  these  are  the  only  ones  who  are  persecuted :  there  is 
reason  for  this.  They  shew  how  useless  the  others  are;  and  they 
arenotthe  strongest. 


193 

turns,  and  many  others,  should  be  developed  in  the 
book  of  which  we  are  speaking ;  but  they  would 
be  superfluous  here.  They  enter  in  many  respects 
into  the  reflections  I  have  made  before  (chapter  x,) 
on  the  manner  in  which  riches  are  distributed  in  a 
country,  in  proportion  as  they  are  accumulated. 
Besides,  my  object  is  not  to  compose  the  history  of 
luxury ;  I  only  wish  to  show  its  effects  on  general 
consumption,  and  on  circulation. 

I  shall  content  myself  with  adding  that  if  luxury 
is  a  great  evil,  in  an  economical  point  of  view,  it  is 
still  a  much  greater  in  point  of  morality ;  which  is 
always  much  the  most  important,  when  the  ques- 
tion is  on  the  interests  of  men. 

The  taste  for  superfluous  expenses,  the  principal 
source  of  which  is  vanity,  nourishes  and  exaspe- 
rates it.  It  renders  the  understanding  frivolous, 
and  injures  its  strength.  It  produces  irregularity  of 
conduct,  which  engenders  many  vices,  disorders 
and  disturbances  in  families.  It  leads  women  rea- 
dily to  depravity — men  to  avidity — both  to  the  loss 
of  delicacy  and  probity,  and  to  the  abandonment  of 
all  generous  and  tender  sentiments.  In  a  word,  it 
enervates  the  soul,  by  weakening  the  understand- 
ing; arid  produces  these  sad  effects  not  only  on  those 
who  enjoy  it,  but  likewise  on  all  those  who  serve  it, 
or  admire  it — who  imitate  or  envy  it.  This  will  all 
be  more  clearly  seen  when  we  speak  of  our  moral 
interests.  I  could  not  avoid  indicating  it  here.  "We 
must  not  confound  things  however  intimately  con- 
nected they  may  be. 

For  the  same  reason  it  will  not  be  expected  sure- 
ly that  I  should  now  discuss  the  question,  whe- 
86 


19* 

ther  luxury  being  acknowledged  hurtful,  we  ought 
to  combat  it  by  laws  or  by  manners  ;  nor  that  I 
should  examine  by  what  mean  we  can  favour  pro- 
duction, and  give  a  useful  direction  to  consumption. 
This  would  be  to  encroach  on  the  province  of 
legislation ;  with  which  I  may  perhaps  occupy  my- 
self some  day.  But  in  all  this  part  of  my  work,  I 
ought  to  limit  myself  to  the  establishment  of  facts. 
I  think  I  have  solidly  established,  that  since 
one  can  only  expend  what  he  has,  production  is 
the  only  fund  of  consumption;  and  that  conse- 
quently consumption  and  circulation  can  never  be 
augmented  but  by  an  augmenting  production  ;  and 
finally,  that  to  destroy  is  not  to  produce  ;  and  that 
to  expend  is  not  to  enrich.  This  small  number  of 
very  simple  truths,  will  enable  us  to  see  very 
clearly  the  effects  of  the  revenues  and  expenses  of 
governments  on  the  prosperity  of  nations. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Of  the  Revenues  and  Expenses  of  a  Government, 
and  of  its  Debts. 

THIS  subject  is  still  very  vast,  although  it  is  but 
a  part  of  that  of  which  we  have  just  treated.  Many 
writers  would  divide  it  into  three  books,  which  they 
subdivide  each  into  several  chapters :  but  1  prefer 
not  to  separate  these  matters,  that  I  may  not  cause 
my  readers  to  lose  sight  of  their  mutual  depen- 
dance  ;  and  I  feel  the  necessity  for  considering  them 
principally  in  mass,  and  under  a  general  and  com- 
mon aspect.  This  will  not  prevent  me  from  enter- 
ing also  into  details,  and  from  distinguishing  the 
particular  cases  which  are  really  different,  perhaps 
even  with  more  exactitude  than  has  been  hitherto 
done. 

lu  every  society  the  government  is  the  greatest 
of  consumers.  For  this  reason  alone  it  merits  a 
separate  article  in  the  history  of  consumption,  with- 
out which  it  would  be  incomplete.  But  for  the  same 
reason,  also,  we  can  never  perfectly  comprehend 
the  economical  effects  of  government,  and  those  of 
its  receipts  and  expenditures,  if  we  have  not  pre- 
viously formed  a  clear  and  exact  idea  of  general 
consumption,  of  its  base,  and  of  its  progress. 

The  same  errors  which  we  have  just  combated 
will  re- appear  here.  Those  who  think  that  agricul- 
tural labours  alone  are  productive,  do  not  fail  to  say 
that  in  the  end  all  imposts  fall  on  the  proprietors  of 
lands,  that  their  revenue  is  the  only  taxable  matter, 


196 

that  the  territorial  impost  is  the  only  just  and  useful 
one,  and  that  there  ought  to  be  no  others  ;  and  those, 
who  persuade  themselves  that  consumptions  can  be 
a  cause  of  direct  riches,  maintain  that  the  levies 
made  by  government,  on  the  fortunes  of  individ- 
uals, powerfully  stimulate  industry ;  that  its  expen- 
ses are  very  useful,  by  augmenting  consumption ; 
that  they  animate  circulation  ;  and  that  all  this  is 
very  favourable  to  the  public  prosperity.  To  see 
clearly  the  vice  of  these  sophisms,  we  must  always 
follow  the  same  track,  and  commence  by  well  es- 
tablishing the  facts. 

In  the  first  place,  there  is  no  doubt  but  that  a 
government  of  some  sort  must  be  very  necessary 
to  every  political  society ;  for  its  members  must  be 
judged,  their  affairs  must  be  administered,  they 
must  be  protected,  defended,  guarantied  from  all 
violence;  it  is  only  for  this  that  they  are  united  ia 
society.  It  is  no  more  doubtful,  but  that  this  go- 
vernment must  have  revenues  since  it  has  expenses 
to  incur.  But  this  is  not  the  present  question.  The 
question  is,  to  know  what  effects  these  revenues, 
and  these  expenses,  produce  on  the  public  riches 
and  national  prosperity. 

To  judge  of  them — since  government  is  a*  great 
consumer,  and  the  greatest  of  all, — we  must  exa- 
mine it  in  this  quality,  as  we  have  examined  the  other 
consumers,  that  is  to  say  we  must  see  from  whence 
it  receives  the  funds  of  which  it  disposes,  and  what 
use  it  makes  of  them. 

A  first  thing  very  certain  is,  that  government  can- 
not be  ranked  amongst  the  consumers  of  the  indus- 
trious class.  The  expenditure  it  makes  does  noi 


197 

return  into  its  Lands  with  an  increase  of  value.  It 
does  not  support  itself  on  the  profits  it  makes.  I 
conclude,  then,  that  its  consumption  is  very  real  and 
definitive;  that  nothing  remains  from  the  labour 
which  it  pays;  and  that  the  riches  which  it  employs, 
and  which  were  existing,  are  consumed  and  destroy, 
ed  when  it  has  availed  itself  of  them.  It  remains 
to  be  seen  from  whence  it  receives  them. 

Since  the  moral  person,  called  government,  does 
not  live  on  profits,  it  lives  on  revenues.      It  de- 
rives these  revenues  from  two  sources.    It  possesses 
estates  in  land,  and  it  lays  imposts.    As  to  its  estates 
in  land,  it  is  absolutely  in  the  same  situation  as  the 
other  capitalists  whom  we  have  called  idle.     It 
leases  them  aod  receives  a  rent ;  or  if  they  are  for- 
ests, it  annually  sells  the  timber  cut.     The  caVe 
taken  of  forests,  and  which  principally  consists  in 
preserving  them,  does  not  merit  the  name  of  indus- 
trious labour.     The  real  labour  which  gives  them 
a  value  is  that  which  consists  in  felling  them,  in  sel- 
ling and  transporting  them.     If  they  belonged  to 
him  who  fells  them,  he  would  receive  all  the  profit. 
The  price  annually  paid  for  the  privilege  of  felling 
them  ought  to  be  regarded  as  a  rent  levied  on  the 
industry  of  the  person  who  fells  them  :  a  rent  ab- 
solutely similar  to  that  derived  from  a  fishery,  year- 
ly rented  to  him  who  has  the  industry  to  take  the 
fish.     Thus  the  revenues,  derived  from  the  estates 
belonging  to  government,  are,  like  those  of  allVther 
rural  property,  created  by  the  industrious  men  who 
work  them,  and  levied  on  their  profits. 

Many  politicians  do  not  approve  of  government 
having  landed  estates  ;  it  is  very  true,  that  as  it  is 


198 

by  no  means  a  careful  proprietor  its  managers  mast 
necessarily  be  very  expensive  and  little  faithful. 
Thus  it  does,  with  much  unskilfulness,  what  another 
proprietor  would  do  better.  But  it  must  be  remark- 
ed, that  this  unskilfulness  does  not  diminish,  or 
diminishes  very  little,  the  total  mass  of  the  produc- 
tion of  these  estates  :  for  the  quantity  of  the  produc- 
tion of  the  lands  depends  little  on  those  who  manage 
them,  but  almost  entirely  on  those  who  work  them. 
Now  nothing  prevents  these  lands  being  as  well 
cultivated,  and  their  timber  cut  down  and  sold,  with 
as  much  intelligence  as  those  of  an  individual.  The 
defect  in  their  management  consists  in  employing  a 
few  more  men  than  is  necessary,  and  in  paying  them 
a  little  too  dear.  Now  this  is  no  very  great  inconve- 
nience. 

I,  on  the  contrary,  see  many  advantages  in  the 
governments  having  possessions  of  this  kind.  First, 
there  are  some  kinds  of  productions  which  it  alone 
can  preserve  in  great  quantity  :  such  are  forests  of 
large  timber,  the  productions  of  which  must  be  so 
long  waited  for,  that  for  the  most  part  individuals 
prefer  the  same,  or  even  a  smaller  quantity  of  more 
frequent  returns.  Secondly,  it  may  be  good  that  the 
government  should  possess  cultivated  lands.  It 
will  be  better  able  to  know  more  perfectly  the 
resources  and  the  interests  of  different  localities ; 
and,  if  it  is  wise  and  benevolent,  it  may  even  profit 
by  this  to  diffuse  a  useful  knowledge.  Thirdly, 
when  a  great  mass  of  landed  property  is  in  the  hand 
of  government,  less  remains  at  market.  Now  as  this 
kind  of  possession  is  always  greatly  desired,  all 
tMngs  otherwise  equal,  the  less  there  is  to  be  sold 


199 

the  clearer  it  will  sell,  that  is  to  say  that  for  a  sum  of 
one  hundred  thousand  francs  the  buyer  will  be  con- 
tented to  receive  four  or  even  three  thousand  francs 
of  revenue  instead  of  five  ;  and  this  will  reduce  the 
rate  of  interest  of  money  in  its  various  employments, 
which  is  a  great  advantage.  Fourthly,  and  this 
consideration  is  the  most  important  of  all, — all  that 
the  government  annually  draws  from  these  estates 
is  a  revenue,  which  it  levies  on  no  one.  It  comes 
to  it  from  its  own  property,  as  to  all  other  proprietors ; 
and  it  is  so  much  in  diminution  of  what  it  is  obliged 
to  procure  by  imposts.  In  fine,  in  a  case  of  necessity 
it  may,  as  an  individual,  find  a  resource  in  the  sale 
of  its  estates  without  having  recourse  to  loans,  which 
are  always  a  great  evil,  as  we  shall  soon  see. 

For  all  these  reasons  I  think  it  very  happy  for 
government  to  be  a  great  proprietor,  especially  of 
forests  and  large  farms.  One  circumstance  only 
would  be  to  be  regretted,  that  this  would  prevent 
these  estates  from  falling  into  the  hand  of  the  indus- 
trious class.  But  we  have  seen  on  the  subject  of 
agricultural  industry,  that  from  the  nature  of  things 
property  of  this  kind  can  seldom  be  in  the  pqsses- 
sion  of  those  who  work  them,  because  this  would 
take  from  them  too  great  a  portion  of  their  funds. 
Now  I  had  rather  they  should  belong  to  government, 
than  to  any  other  capitalist  living  on  revenue. 

On  the  whole,  our  modern  governments  in  gene- 
ral possess  but  little  landed  property.  It  is  not  that 
they  have  not  almost  all  declared  their  domains 
inalienable,  but  they  have  also  almost  all  sold  or 
given  a  very  great  part  of  them.  The  true  revenue 
on  which  they  calculate  is  that  of  imposts ;  it  is  then 
this  which  we  should  take  into  consideration, 


200 

By  means  of  imposts,  the  government  takes 
from  individuals  the  wealth  which  was  at  their  dis~ 
position,  in  order  to  expend  it  itself;  these  then  are 
always  sacrifices  imposed  on  them. 

If  this  sacrifice  bears  on  the  men  who  live  on  their 
revenues,  and  who  employ  the  whole  of  them  on 
their  personal  enjoyments,  it  would  make  no  change 
in  the  total  mass  of  production,  consumption  arid 
general  circulation.  All  the  difference  would  he, 
that  a  part  of  the  wages  which  these  men  paid, 
would  he  paid  by  government  with  the  money  taken 
from  them  :  this  is  the  most  favourable  case. 

When  the  impost  falls  on  industrious  men,  who 
live  on  profits,  it  may  only  diminish  their  profits. 
Then  it  is  that  paVt  of  these  profits  which  these  men 
employ  in  their  personal  enjoyments  which  is  attack- 
ed. It  is  these  enjoyments  which  are  diminished  : 
and  the  impost  has  the  same  effects  as  in  the 
preceding  case.  But  if  it  goes  so  far  as  to  annihilate 
the  profits  of  the  industrious  men,  or  even  to  touch 
on  the  funds  of  their  industry,  then  it  is  this  in- 
dustry itself  which  is  deranged  or  destroyed  ;  and 
consequently  production,  and  in  the  end  the  general 
consumption  are  diminished  by  it.  Suffering  pre- 
vails every  where. 

Finally,  where  the  impost  falls  on  the  hirelings, 
it  is  evident  they  begin  to  suffer.  If  the  loss  rests 
entirely  on  them,  it  is  a  part  of  their  consumption 
which  is  suppressed  ;  and  which  is  replaced  by  that 
of  those  whom  the  government  pays  with  the  inoney 
taken  from  them.  If  they  are  able  to  throw  it  on 
those  who  employ  them  by  raising  the  price  of  their 
"wages,  it  is  then  necessary  to  know  by  whom  they 


201 

arc  employed  ;  and,  accordingly  as  they  are  in  the 
employ  of  idle  or  industrious  capitalists,  this  loss 
will  have  one  of  the  two  effects  which  we  have  just 
described  in  speaking  of  these  capitalists. 

I  think  this  preliminary  explanation  must  appear 
incontestable,  after  the  elucidations  we  have  given 
in  speaking  of  consumption.  At  present  the  great 
difficulty  is  to  find  on  whom  the  loss  occasioned  by 
the  impost  really  falls  :  for  all  imposts  do  not  pro- 
duce the  same  effects,  and  thus  are  so  multiplied  that 
it  is  impossible  to  examine^every  one  separately.  I 
think  it  best  to  arrange  under  the  same  denomination, 
all  those  which  are  essentially  of  the  same  nature. 

All  imaginable  imposts,  and  I  suppose  they  have 
all  been  imagined,  may  be  divided  into  six  principal 
kinds,  *  viz.  First,  The  impost  on  the  revenues 
of  lands,  such  as  the  real  tax,  the  twentieth  the 
manorial  contribution  in  France,  and  the  land  tax  in 
England.  Second,  That  on  the  rent  of  houses. 
Third,  That  on  the  annuities  due  from  the  state. 
Fourth,  That  on  persons,  as  the  capitation  and  poll 
tax,  sumptuary  and  furniture  contributions,  on  patent 
rights,  on  charters  and  freedom  of  corporations, 
&c.  &c.  Fifth,  That  on  civil  acts  and  certain  social 
transactions,  as  on  stamps,  and  registers,  onvendues, 
the  hundredth  penny,  amortisement,  and  others ;  to 
which  we  must  add  the  annual  impost  on  annuities 
charged  on  one  individual  by  another,  for  there  are 
no  means  of  knowing  of  these  investments,  donations, 
or  transmissions,  but  by  the  depositories  which 
preserve  the  acts  establishing  them.  Sixth,  That  on 

*  This  is  in  my  opinion  the  best  method  of  classing  them,  to  give  a  cl«.ar 
account  of  their  effects. 

37 


202 

merchandise,  whether  by  monopoly  or  sale,  exclu- 
sive, or  even  forced,  as  formerly  of  salt  and  tobacco 
in  France  ;  or  at  the  moment  of  their  first  produc- 
tion, as  the  taxes  on  salt  ponds  and  mines,  and 
part  of  those  on  wines  in  France  and  on  breweries 
in  England  j  or  at  the  moment  of  consumption,  or 
on  their  passage  from  the  first  producer  to  the 
ultimate  consumer,  as  the  customs  interior  and 
exterior :  the  tolls  on  roads,  canals,  postage,  and 
at  the  entrance  of  cities,  &c.  &c.* 

*  A  note  communicated  to  the  Editor.  Our  author's  classification  of 
taxes  being  taken  from  those  practised  in  France,  will  scarcely  be  intelli- 
gible to  an  American  reader  to  \vhom  the  nature  ds  well  as  names  of  some 
of  them  must  be  unknown.  The  taxes  with  which  we  are  familiar  class 
themselves  readily  according  to  the  basis  on  which  they  rest.  1.  Capita). 
2.  Income.  3.  Consumption.  These  may  he  considered  as  commensurate; 
consumption  being  generally  equal  to  income  j  and  income  the  annual 
profit  of  capital,  a  government  may  select  Cither  of  these  basis  for  the 
establishment  of  its  system  01  taxation,  and  so  frame  it  as  to  reach  the 
faculties  of  every  member  of  the  society,  and  to  draw  from  him  his  equal 
proportion  of  the  public  contributions.  And  if  this  be  correctly  obtained, 
it  is  the  perfection  of  tlie  function  of  taxation.  But  when  once  a  govern- 
ment has  assumed  its  basis,  to  select  and  tax  special  articles  from  either  of 
the  other  classes  is  double  taxation.  For  example,  if  the  system  be  t  sta- 
bjished  on  the  basis  of  income,  and  his  just  proportion  on  that  scale  lias 
been  already  drawn  ft-om  every  one,  to  step  into  the  field  of  consumption, 
and  tax  special  articles  in  that,  as  broadcloth  or  homespun,  wine  or  whiskey, 
a  coach  or  a  waggon,  is  doubly  taxing  tbe  same  article.  For  that  portion, 
of  income,  with  which  these  articles  are  purchased,  having  already  paid 
its  tax  as  income,  to  pay  another  tax  on  the  thing  it  purchased,  is  paying 
twice  for  the  same  thing.  It  is  an  aggrievance  on  the  citizens  who  uge 
these  articles  in  exoneration  of  those  who  do  not,  contrary  to  the  most 
sacred  of  the  duties  of  a  government,  to  do  equal  and  impartial  justice  to 
all  its  citizens. 

How  far  it  may  be  tbe  interest  and  the  duty  of  all  to  submit  to  this 
sacrifice  on  other  grounds,  for  instance,  to  pay  for  a  time  an  impost  on 
the  importation  of  certain  articles,  in  order  to  encourage  their  manufacture 
at  home,  or  an  excise  on  others  injurious  to  the  morals  or  health  of  the 
citizens,  will  depend  on  a  series  of  considerations,  of  another  order,  and 
beyond  t«e  proper  limits  of  this  note.  The  reader,  in  deciding  which  basis 
of  taxation  is  most  eligible  for  the  local  circumstances  of  his  country,  will 
«sf  course  avail  himself  of  the  weighty  observations  of  our  author. 


208 

Each  of  these  imposts  has  one  or  several  man- 
ners, peculiar  to  itself,  of  being  burdensome. 

At  the  first  glance,  we  may  see  that  the  tax  on 
revenues  from  land  has  the  inconvenience  of  being 
difficult  to  assess  with  justice,  and  of  annihilating 
the  value  of  all  those  lands  whose  rent  does  not 
exceed  the  tax  or  exceeds  it  by  too  little,  to  deter- 
mine any  one  to  incur  the  inevitable  risques,  and 
the  expenditures  requisite  for  putting  these  lands 
into  a  state  for  cultivation. 

The  tax  on  house  rent,  has  the  defect  of  lessening 
the  profit  of  speculations  in  building ;  and  so  of 
deterring  from  building  houses  to  rent,  so  that 
every  citizen  is  obliged  to  content  himself  with 
habitations  less  healthy,  and  less  convenient,  than 
those  he  might  have  had  at  the  same  rent.* 

A  tax  on  annuities  due  from  the  state  is  a  real 
bankruptcy,  if  established  on  annuities  already 
created^  since  it  is  a  diminution  of  the  interest 
promised  for  a  capital  received ;  and  it  is  illusory  if 

*  I  do  not  avail  myself  against  this  impost  of  the  pi  e.tentions  of  some 
economists,  that  the  rent  of  houses  ought  not  to  be  taxed,  or  at  least  but  ia 
proportion  to  the  nett  revenue  which  would  be  yielded  by  the  cultivation  of 
the  land  occupied  by  these  houses,  -all  the  rest  being  only  the  interest  of 
the  capital  employed  in  building,  which  according  to  them  is  not  taxable. 

This  opinion  is  a  consequence  of  that  which  considers  agricultural 
labour  as  alone  productive,  and  that  the  revenue  of  land  is  the  only  thing 
taxable,  because  there  is  in  the  produce  of  land  a  pa|f  purely  gratuitous  and 
entirely  due  to  nature ;  which  portion,  according  to  these  authors,  is  the  only 
legitimate  and  reasonable  subject  of  taxation. 

I  have  shown  that  all  this  is  false,  therefore  I  cannot  avail  myself  of  it 
either  against  this  or  any  of  the  following  imposts ;  which  are  all  not  only 
reprobated  in  this  system,  but  are  declared  illusory,  as  never  being  nor 
possible  to  be,  any  thing  but  an  impost  on  the  revenue  of  lands,  disguised 
and  additionally  charged  with  useles  expenses  and  losies.  Such  »  theOff- 
is  untenable  when  we  know  what  is  production. 


established  on  them  at  the  moment  of  their 
lion,  for  it  would  have  been  more  simple  to  have 
offered  in  the  first  instant  an  interest  lessened 
by  the  amount  of  the  tax,  which  would  have  come 
to  the  same  thing. 

A  tax  on  persons  gives  occasion  to  disagreeable 
scrutinies  to  assess  it  justly,  according  to  the  for- 
tune of  every  one ;  and  can  never  rest  but  on 
arbitrary  bases  and'  very  uncertain  knowledge,, 
as  well  when  attempted  to  be  assessed  on  riches 
already  acquired  as  when  intended  to  bear  on  the 
means  of  acquiring  them.  In  the  latter  case, 
that  is  to  say,  when  it  is  predicated  on  the  supposi- 
tion of  any  kind  of  industry  whatever,  it  discourages 
that  industry,  and  obliges  it  to  rise  in  price  or  to  be 
abandoned. 

The  tax  on  civil  acts,  and  in  general  on  social 
iransactions,  cramps  the  circulation  of  real  property, 
;aid  diminishes  their  market  value,  by  rendering 
their  transfer  very  expensive  5  augments  so  much 
ihe  expenses  of  justice  that  the  poor  dare  no  longer 
defend  their  rights  ;  renders  all  business  perplex 
ing  and  difficult;  occasions  inquisitorial  researches, 
and  vexations  by  the  agents  of  the  revenue  ;  gives 
rise  in  these  acts  to  concealments,  and  even  to  the 
insertion  of  deceptious  clauses  and  valuations, 
which  open  Mm  door  to  much  iniquity  and  give 
rise  to  a  multitude  of  contentions  and  misfortunes. 

As  to  taxes  on  merchandise,  their  inconvenien- 
ces are  still  more  numerous  and  complicated ;  but 
are  not  less  disagreeable  nor  less  certain. 

Monopoly,  or  a  sale  exclusively  by  the  state, 
is  odious,  tyrannical,  contrary  to  the  natural  right 


205 

which  every  one  has  of  buying  and  selling  as  he 
pleases,  and  it  necessitates  a  multitude  of  violent 
measures.  It  is  still  worse  when  this  sale  is 
forced,  that  is  to  say  when  government  obliges 
individuals,  as  has  sometimes  been  done,  to  buy 
things  they  do  not  want,  under  pretext  that  they 
cannot  do  without  them,  and  that  if  they  do  not 
buy  them  it  is  because  they  have  provided  them- 
selves by  contraband. 

A  tax,  levied  at  the  moment  of  production, 
evidently  requires  on  the  part  of  the  producer  an 
advance  of  fund,  which  being  long  without  return- 
ing to  him  greatly  diminishes  his  means  of  produc- 
ing- 

It  is  not  less  clear  that  all  imposts  levied  either 

at  the  moment  of  consumption  or  during  the  trans- 
portation from  the  producer  to  the  consumer,  cramp 
or  destroy  some  branch  of  industry  or  of  commerce; 
render  scarce,  or  costly,  necessary  or  useful  articles; 
disturb  all  enjoyments,  derange  the  natural  course 
of  things ;  and  establish,  between  the  different 
wants  and  the  means  of  satisfying  them,  propor- 
tions and  relations  which  would  not  exist  but  for 
these  perturbations,  which  are  necessarily  variable, 
and  which  render  the  speculations  and  resources 
of  the  citizens  inevitably  precarious. 

Finally,  all  these  taxes  whatsoever  on  merchan^ 
disc  occasion  an  infinity  of  precautions  and  embarras- 
sing formalities.  They  give  place  to  a  multitude 
of  ruinous  difficulties,  and  are  necessarily  liable  to 
be  arbitrary;  they  oblige  actions  indifferent  in 
themselves  to  be  constituted  crimes,  and  inflict  pun- 
ishments often  the  most  cruel.  Their  collection  is 


206 

very  expensive,  and  calls  into  existence  an  army 
of  officers,  and  an  army  of  defrauders,  men  all  lost 
to  society,  and  who  continually  wage  a  real  civil 
war,  with  all  the  greivous  economical  and  moral 
consequences  which  it  brings  on. 

When  we  attentively  examine  each  of  these  cri- 
ticisms on  the  different  taxes,  we  see  that  they  are 
well  founded.  Thus,  after  having  shown  that 
every  impost  is  a  sacrifice,  we  find  that  we  have 
also  shown  that  every  impost  has,  besides,  a  man- 
ner peculiar  to  itself  of  being  hurtful  to  the  con- 
tributors. This  is  already  a  great  deal,  but  it  does 
not  yet  teach  us  on  whom  precisely  falls  the  loss 
resulting  from  the  impost,  nor  who  it  is  that  really 
and  definitively  supports  it.  Yet  this  latter  ques- 
tion is  the  most  important,  and  absolutely  necessary 
to  be  resolved  in  order  to  judge  of  the  effects  of 
taxes  on  the  national  prosperity.  Let  us  examine 
it  then  with  attention,  without  adopting  any  system, 
and  adhering  scrupulously  to  an  observation  of 
facts,  as  we  have  done  hitherto. 

As  to  the  tax  on  the  revenues  of  land,  it  is  evi- 
dent that  it  is  he  who  possesses  the  land,  at  the 
moment  in  which  the  tax  is  established,  who  pays  it 
really  without  being  able  to  throw  it  on  any  one. 
For  it  does  not  give  him  any  means  of  augmenting 
bis  productions,  since  it  adds  nothing  either  to  the 
demand  for  articles,  or  to  the  fertility  of  the  soil ; 
and  does  not  in  any  degree  diminish  the  expense 
of  cultivation.  All  assent  to  this  truth.  But  what 
has  not  been  sufficiently  remarked,  is,  that  this  pro- 
prietor ought  to  be  considered  less  as  having  been 
deprived  of  a  portion  of  his  yearly  income,  than  as 


so? 

having  lost  that  part  of  his  capital,  which  would 
produce  this  portion  of  income  at  the  current  rate 
of  interest.  The  proof  is,  that  if  a  farm,  yielding 
annually  five  thousand  francs  nett  rent,  is  worth 
an  hundred  thousand  francs — the  day  after  it  shall 
have  been  charged  with  a  perpetual  tax  of  a  fifth, 
all  other  things  equal,  it  will  not  command  more 
than  eighty  thousand  if  offered  for  sale ;  and  it  will 
be  stated  but  at  eighty  thousand  francs,  in  the  in- 
ventory of  an  inheritance  which  contains  other  ar- 
ticles whose  value  have  not  been  changed.  In 
effect,  when  the  state  has  declared  that  it  takes  in 
perpetuity  the  fifth  of  the  income  of  lauds,  it  is  as 
if  it  had  declared  itself  proprietor  of  the  fifth  of 
the  capital,  for  no  property  is  worth  but^the  utility 
which  may  be  derived  from  it.  This  is  so  true, 
that  when,  in  consequence  of  a  new  impost,  the 
state  opens  a  loan,  for  the  interest  of  which  it 
pledges  the  revenue  it  has  seized,  the  operation  is 
consummated ;  it  has  really  received  the  capital, 
it  had  appropriated,  and  has  made  away  with  the 
whole  at  once,  instead  of  annually  expending  its  in 
come.  It  is  as  when  Mr.  Pitt  took  at  once  from 
the  proprietors  the  capital  of  the  land  tax  with 
which  they  were  charged :  they  were  liberated  and 
he  swallowed  his  capital. 

From  hence  it  follows,  that  when  once  all  the 
land  has  changed  owners  since  the  establishment 
of  the  tax,  it  is  no  longer  really  paid  by  any  one. 
The  purchasers  having  bought  only  what  was  left, 
have  lost  nothing ;  the  heirs  having  succeeded  but 
to  what  they  found,  the  surplus  is  to  them  as  if 
their  predecessors  had  expended  or  lost  it,  as  in 


208 

effect  they  have  lost  it.  And,  in  cate'of  inheritances 
abandoned  as  of  no  value,  it  is  the  creditors  who 
have  lost  the  capital  taken  by  the  state  from  the 
property  which  was  security  for  their  debt. 

It  follows  likewise  from  this,  that  when  the 
state  renounces  the  whole  or  part  of  a  territorial 
tax,  anciently  established  as  a  perpetuity,  it  purely 
and  simply  makes  a  present  to  the  actual  propri- 
etors of  the  lands  of  the  capital  of  the  revenue 
which  it  ceases  to  demand.  It  is  as  to  them  a  gift 
absolutely  gratuitous,  to  which  they  have  no  more 
right  than  any  other  citizens.  For  none  of  them 
calculated  on  this  capital,  in  the  transactions  by 
which  they  became  proprietors. 

It  would  not  be  absolutely  the  same,  if  the  im- 
post had  been  originally  established  only  for  a  de- 
terminate number  of  years.  Then  there  would 
really  have  been  taken  from  the  proprietor  but  a 
part  of  the  capital  corresponding  to  this  number  of 
years.  The  state,  likewise,  would  have  borrowed 
but  this  value  from  the  lenders,  to  whom  it  might 
have  pledged  this  impost  for  the  payment  of  their 
principal  and  interest ;  and  the  lands  would  have 
been  considered  in  the  transaction  but  as  deteriorated 
to  this  amount.  In  this  ease  when  the  tax  ceases,  as 
when  the  corresponding  dividends  of  the  loan  are 
exhausted,  it  is  on  both  sides  a  debt  extinguished, 
because  it  is  paid.  On  the  whole  the  principle  is 
the  same,  as  in  the  case  of  a  tax  and  of  a  perpetual 
rent. 

It  is  then  always  true,  that  when  a  tax  is  laid  on 
land,  a  value  equal  to  the  capital  of  this  tax  is  tak- 
en at  ,once  from  the  actual  proprietors;  and  that 


309 

when  all  have  changed  owners,  since  the  establish- 
ment of  the  tax,  it  is  really  no  longer  paid  by  any 
one.  This  observation  is  singular  and  important. 

It  is  absolutely  the  same  with  the  tax  establish- 
ed on  the  rent  of  houses.  Those  who  possess 
them  at  the  moment  it  is  established  support  the 
entire  loss,  for  they  have  ne  means  of  indemnifying 
themselves.  But  those  who  buy  them  afterwards 
pay  for  them  but  in  proportion  to  the  charges  with 
which  they  are  incumbered.  Those  who  inherit 
them,  reckon  them,  in  like  manner,  but  at  the  value 
which  remains ;  and  as  to  those  who  build  sub- 
sequently, they  make  their  calculations  according  to 
the  state  of  things  as  they  are  established.  If  no 
room  is  left  for  useful  speculation  they  defer  build- 
ing until  the  effect  of  scarcity  raises  rents.  As,  on 
the  contrary,  if  it  was  extremely  advantageous 
there  would  soon  be  funds  enough  employed  there- 
in to  make  it  no  longer  preferable  to  any  other  em- 
ployment of  them.  We  conclude  again  that  the 
proprietors  on  whom  the  impost  falls,  lose  the  en- 
tire  capital,  and  that  when  all  are  either  dead  or 
expropriated,  this  impost  is  paid  but  by  those  who 
have  no  right  to  complain  of  it. 

We  may  say  the  same  of  the  taxes  which  govern* 
inents  sometimes  permit  themselves  to  impose  on 
annuities  which  they  owe  for  capitals  formerly  fur- 
nished. Certainly  the  unfortunate  creditor  from 
whom  this  deduction  is  made  suffers  the  entire 
loss,  not  being  able  to  throw  it  on  any  one ;  but  he 
moreover  loses  the  capital  of  the  sum  retained. 
The  proof  is  that  if  he  sells  his  annuity  he  gets 
so  much  the  less,  as  it  is  more  encumbered  if  other- 

37 


210 

wise  the  general  rate  of  interest  on  money  lias  not 
varied.  Whence  it  follows  that  subsequent  posses- 
sors of  this  annuity  no  longer  pay  any  thing :  for 
they  received  it  in  this  condition  and  for  its  remain 
ing  value  in  virtue  of  a  purchase  freely  made  or  of 
successions  voluntarily  accepted. 

The  effect  of  a  tax  on  persons  is  not  at  all  the 
same.  We  must  distinguish  between  that  which 
is  supposed  to  bear  on  acquired  riches,  and  that 
which  is  meant  for  the  means  of  acquiring  them, 
that  is  to  say  on  industry  of  some  sort.  In  the 
first  case  it  is  certainly  always  the  person  taxed 
who  supports  the  loss  resulting  from  it,  for  he  can- 
not throw  it  on  any  other.  But  as  the  tax  on  every 
one  ceases  with  his  life,  and  every  one  is  succes- 
sively subject  to  it,  in  proportion  to  his  presumed 
fortune,  the  first  person  taxed  loses  only  the  dues 
which  he  pays,  and  not  the  capital,  and  does  not 
liberate  those  who  come  after  him ;  thus  at  what- 
ever epoch  the  tax  ceases,  it  is  not  a  pure  gain  to 
those  who  are  subject  to  it,  it  is  a  burthen  weighing 
really  on  them  and  which  ceases  to  be  continued. 

As  to  a  tax  on  persons,  which  has  for  its  object 
industry  of  some  sort,  it  is  equally  true  that  he 
who  first  pays  it  does  not  lose  the  capital  nor  liber- 
ate those  who  are  subjected  to  it  after  him  ;  but  it 
gives  room  for  considerations  of  another  kind.  The 
man  who  exercises  a  branch  of  industry  at  the  mo- 
ment in  which  it  becomes  burthened  with  a  new 
personal  tax,  such  as  the  establishment  or  increase 
of  patent  rights,  the  freedom  of  corporations,  mas- 
terships,  or  other  things  of  the  same  kind,  this  man 
I  say  has  but  two  courses  to  pursue,  either  to  re 


Bounce  his  occupation,  or  to  pay  the  tax  and  sup- 
port the  loss  resulting  from  it,  if  notwithstanding 
this  it  still  holds  out  a  prospect  of  sufficient  profits. 
In  the  first  case  he  certainly  suffers,  hut  he  does 
not  pay  the  tax ;  therefore  1  shall  not  now  occupy 
myself  with  it.  In  the  second  case,  it  is  he  as- 
suredly who  pays  the  imposition,  since  neither 
augmenting  the  demand,  nor  diminishing  the  ex- 
pense,  it  does  not  give  him  any  immediate  mean  of 
increasing  his  receipts  or  lessening  his  expendi- 
tures. But  taxes  are  never  all  at  once  laid  so 
heavy  as  to  ohlige  inevitably  all  of  the  same  occu- 
pation to  quit  it:  for  all  industrious  professions 
being  necessary  to  society,  the  total  extinction  of 
any  one  would  produce  general  disorder.  Thus 
after  the  establishment  of  a  tax  of  the  kind  we 
speak  of,  none  but  those  who  are  already  ricty 
enough  to  consider  a  diminished  profit  as  no  object, 
or  those  who  exercised  their  profession  with  so 
little  success,  that  no  profits  would  remain  to  them 
after  paying  the  tax,  would  renounce  their  occupa- 
tion. The  others  continue  it ;  and  these,  as  we 
have  said,  really  pay  the  tax  at  least  until  rid  of 
the  competion  of  many  of  their  brethren,  they  could 
avail  themselves  of  this  circumstance  to  levy  it  on 
the  consumers  by  making  them  pay  more  for  the 
articles  than  before. 

It  is  thus  with  those  who  exercised  the  profes- 
sion at  the  moment  of  the  establishment  of  the  tax. 
The  case  is  different  with  those  who  embrace  it 
after  the  tax  has  been  once  established.  They 
find  the  law  made ;  we  may  say  that  they  engage 
themselves  on  this  condition.  The.  tax  is  for  them 


SIS 

among  the  expenses  required  by  the  profession, 
as  the  necessity  of  renting  a  particular  situation, 
or  of  buying  a  particular  utensil.  They  only  enter 
on  this  profession  because  they  calculate  that,  not- 
withstanding  these  changes,  it  is  still  the  best  em- 
ployment they  can  make  of  the  portion  of  capital 
and  industry  they  possess.  Thus  they  certainly  ad- 
vance the  tax,  but  it  does  not  really  take  any  thing 
from  them.  Those  to  whom  it  is  a  real  loss  are 
the  consumers,  who  without  this  change  could  at 
less  expense  have  made  up  the  income  with  which 
they  are  contented,  and  which  was  the  best  in  their 
power  to  procure  in  the  present  state  of  society. 
From  hence  it  follows,  that,  if  the  tax  be  removed 
these  men  really  make  a  profit  on  which  they  did  not 
calculate,  at  least  until  this  advantage  produces  new 
competitors.  They  find  themselves  gratuitously, 
and  fortuitously,  transported  into  a  class  of  society 
more  favoured  by  fortune  than  that  in  which  they 
were  placed  ;  while  to  those  who  exercised  it  pre- 
viously to  the  tax,  it  is  but  a  return  to  their  first 
state.  We  see  that  a  tax  on  persons,  founded  on 
industry,  produces  very  different  effects ;  but  its 
general  effect  is  to  diminish  the  enjoyments  of  con- 
sumers, since  their  furnishers  do  not  give  them 
merchandise  for  that  part  of  their  money  which 
goes  into  the  public  treasury.  1  cannot  enter  into 
more  details ;  but  We  cannot  too  much  accustom 
ourselves  to  judge  of  the  different  reverberations  of 
a  tax,  and  to  follow  them  in  thought,  in  all  their 
modifications.  Let  us  pass  to  the  imposts  on  pa- 
pers,  deeds,  records,  and  other  monuments  of  social 
transactions. 


This  requires  also  a  distinction.  The  portion 
of  this  impost,  which  goes  to  augment  the  expenses 
of  justice,  and  which  makes  a  part  of  it,  is  cer- 
tainly paid  by  the  parties  on  whom  the  judgment 
throws  the  expense ;  and  it  is  difficult  to  say  to 
what  class  of  society  it  is  most  hurtful ;  however, 
it  is  easy  to  see  that  it  burdens  particularly  the 
kind  of  property  most  liable  to  contention.  Now, 
as  this  is  landed  property,  the  establishment  of 
such  an  impost  certainly  diminishes  its  market 
value.  Whence  it  follows  that  those  who  have 
purchased  lands,  since  the  existence  of  the  tax,  arc 
a  little  compensated,  in  advance,  by  the  smaller 
price  of  their  purchase ;  and  that  those  who  pos- 
sessed them  before  bear  the  entire  loss  if  they  have 
any  law-suit,  and  even  sustain  a  loss  without  any 
law  contest,  and  without  paying  the  tax,  since  the 
value  of  their  property  is  diminished.  Consequent- 
ly if  the  tax  ceases,  it  is  but  a  restitution  for  the 
latter;  and  there  is  a  portion  of  gratuitous  gain 
for  the  others,  for  they  find  themselves  in  a  better 
situation  than  that  on  which  they  had  calculated, 
and  according  to  which  they  had  made  their  specu- 
lation. 

All  this  is  yet  more  true,  and  is  true  without 
restriction,  of  that  portion  of  the  tax  on  transac- 
tions which  regards  purchases  and  sales,  such  as 
fines  on  alienation,  the  hundredth  penny,  amortise- 
ment,  and  others.  This  portion  of  the  tax  is  entirely 
paid  by  him  who  possesses  the  property  at  the  mo- 
ment it  is  thus  encumbered  :  for  he  who  buys  it 
subsequently  pays  him  but  accordingly,  and  con; 
spquently  pays  really  nothing.  AH  that  can  be 


s#id,  is  that  if  this  tax  on  deeds  of  sale  of  cert.iin 
possessions  is  accompanied  by  other  taxes  on  other 
transactions  which  affect  other  kinds  of  property, 
other  employments  of  capitals,  it  will  happen 
that  these  possessions  are  not  the  only  ones  lessened 
in  value  ;  and  consequently  that  proportion  is  pre- 
served, at  least  in  part,  and  that  thus  a  part  of  their 
loss  is  prevented  by  that  of  others,  for  the  market 
price  of  every  kind  of  revenue  is  relative  to  that  of 
all  the  others.  Thus,  if  all  these  losses  could  be- 
exactly  balanced,  the  total  loss  resulting  from  the 
impost  would  be  exactly  and  very  proportionably 
distributed.  This  is  all  that  can  be  asked  :  for  ii 
must  necessarily  ^exist,  since  impost  is  always  a 
sum  of  means  taken  from  the  governed,  to  be 
placed  at  the  disposition  of  those  who  govern. 

Imposts  on  merchandise  have  effects  still  more 
complicated  and  various.  To  unravel  them  well, 
let  us  recollect  that  all  merchandise,  at  the  moment 
it  is  delivered  to  the  consumer,  has  a  natural  and 
necessary  price.  This  price  is  composed  of  the 
value  of  what  has  been  necessary  for  the  subsis- 
tence of  those  who  have  fabricated  and  transported 
this  merchandise,  during  the  time  which  they 
were  employed  about  it.  I  say  that  this  price  is 
natural  because  it  is  founded  on  the  nature  of  things 
independently  of  all  convention  ;  and  that  it  is 
necessary,  because  if  the  men  who  execute  a  labour 
whatsoever  do  not  obtain  subsistence  they  perish, 
or  apply  themselves  to  other  occupations,  and  this 
labour  is  no  longer  executed.  But  this  natural 
and  necessary  price  has  scarcely  any  thing  in  com- 
mon with  the  market  or  conventional  price  of  the 


215 

merchandise,  that  is  to  say  with  the  price  at  which 
it  is  fixed  by  the  effect  of  a  free  sale.  Kor  a  thing 
may  have  cost  very  little  trouble,  or  if  it  has  requir- 
ed much  ttbour  and  care  it  may  have  been  found 
or  stolen  by  him  who  offers  it  for  sale ;  in  these  two 
cases  he  may  sell  it  very  low,  without  losing ;  but 
it  may  at  the  same  time  be  so  useful  to  him,  that  he 
will  not  part  with  it  but  for  a  very  great  price;  and, 
if  many  people  want  it,  he  will  obtain  this  price, 
and  make  an  enormous  gain.  On  the  contrary  it  is 
possible  that  a  thing  may  have  cost  the  vendor 
infinite  trouble,  that  not  only  it  may  not  be  necessary 
to  him,  but  that  he  may  have  a  pressing  call  to  dis- 
pose of  it,  and  that  yet  no  body  is  desirous  of  buying 
it.  In  this  case  he  will  be  obliged  to  part  with  it 
for  almost  nothing,  and  will  sustain  a  very  great 
loss.  The  natural  price  is  then  composed  of  anterior 
sacrifices  made  by  the  vendor,  and  the  conventional 
price  is  fixed  by  the  offers  of  buyers.  These  are 
two  things,  in  themselves  foreign  to  one  another. 
Only  when  the  conventional  price  of  any  labour  is 
constantly  below  its  natural  and  necessary  price, 
it  ceases  to  be  performed.  Then  the  produce  of 
this  labour  becoming  scarce,  more  sacrifices  are 
made  to  procure  it,  if  it  is  still  desired,  and  thus 
however  little  it  is  really  useful  the  conventional 
or  market  price  re- ascends  to  the  level  of  the  price 
which  nature  has  attached  to  that  labour,  and  which 
is  necessary  to  a  continuance  of  its  execution.  It 
is  thus  all  prices  are  formed  in  a  state  of  society. 

It  follows  hence  that  those  who  exercise  a  labour, 
the  conventional  price  of  which  is  inferior  to  its 
natural  value,  ruin  themselves  or  disperse,  that 


216 


those  who  execute  a  labour,  or  in  other  words  exer- 
cise an  industry  whatsoever,  the  conventional  price 
of  which  is  strictly  equal  to  the  natural  price,  that 
is  to  say,  those  whose  profits  balance  nearly  their 
urgent  wants,  vegetate  and  subsist  miserably  and 
that  those  who  possess  talents  the  conventional 
price  of  which,  is  superior  to  absolute  necessaries, 
enjoy,  prosper,  and  in  course  multiply.  For  the 
fecundity  of  all  living,  even  among  vegetables  is 
such,  that  nothing  but  a  want  of  nourishment  for 
the  germs  disclosed  arrests  the  increase  of  numbers 
of  the  individuals.  This  is  the  cause  of  the  retro- 
grade, stationary  or  progressive  state  of  population, 
in  the  human  kind.  Momentary  calamities,  such 
as  famine  and  pestilence  have  little  effect.  Unpro- 
ductive labour,  or  productive  in  an  insufficient 
degree,  is  the  poison  which  deeply  infects  the 
sources  of  life.  We  have  already  made  nearly 
all  these  observations,  either  in  the  fourth  paragraph 
of  our  introduction,  in  speaking  of  the  nature  of  our 
riches,  or  in  the  chapters  in  which  we  have  spoken 
of  values  and  population.  But  it  was  well  to  bring 
them  again  into  view  in  this  place. 

Now  it  is  easy  to  perceive  that  imposts  on  mer- 
chandise, affect  prices,  in  different  ways,  and  in 
different  limits,  according  to  the  manner  in  which 
they  are  levied,  and  according  to  the  nature  of  the 
articles  on  which  they  bear.  For  example  in  the 
case  of  monoply  or  exclusive  sale,  by  the  state,  it 
is  clear  that  the  impost  is  paid  directly  immediately 
and  without  resource  by  the  consumer,  and  that  it 
lias  the  greatest  extension  of  which  it  is  susceptible. 
But  this  sale,  if  forced  cannot  however,  either  in 


price  or  quantity  exceed  a  certain  term,  which  is 
that  of  the  possibility  of  paying  it.  It  stops 
whenever  it  would  be  useless  to  exact  it,  or  when 
it  would  cost  more  than  it  would  bring  in.  This 
is  the  point  at  which  the  tax  on  salt  was  in  France 
and  it  is  the  maximum  of  possible  exaction. 

Jf  the  exclusive  sale,  be  not  forced  it  varies 
according  to  the-  nature  of  the  merchandise,  if  it 
be  on  articles  not  necessary  in  proportion  as  the 
price  raises  the  consumption  diminishes ;  for  there 
is  but  a  certain  sum  of  means  in  the  whole  society, 
which  is  destined  to  procure  a  certain  kind  of  enjoy- 
ment :  it  may  even  happen,  that  a  small  increase 
of  price  may  greatly  diminish  the  profit  because 
many  renounce  entirely  this  kind  of  consumption, 
or  are  even  able  to  replace  it  by  another.  But  the 
impost  is  always  effectively  paid  by  those  who 
persevere  in, consuming. 

If  on  the  contrary  the  exclusive  sale  made  by 
the  state,  but  by  mutual  agreement  bears  on  an 
article  of  the  first  necessity,  it  is  equivalent  to  a 
forced  sale,  for  the  consumption,  diminishes  truly 
IB  proportion  as  the  price  rises,  that  is  to  say,  people 
suffer  and  die,  but  as  in  fine  it  is  necessary,  it 
always  rises  with  the  means  of  paying,  and  it  is 
paid  by  those  who  consume. 

After  these  violent  means,  if  we  examine  others, 
more  mild,  we  shall  find  their  effects  analagous^ 
with  a  less  degree  of  energy.  The  most  efficacious 
of  these  is  a  tax  imposed  on  merchandise  at  the 
moment  of  production,  for  no  part  escapes,  not  even 
that,  consumed  by  the  producer  himself,  nor  even 

that  which  may  be  damaged  or  lost  in  warehouses, 

38 


previously  to  being  employed.  Such  is  the  tax  on 
salt  levied  on  the  salt  ponds;  that  on  wine  at  the 
instant  of  the  vintage,  or  before  the  first  sale,  and 
that  on  beer  at  the  breweries.  We  may  also  range  in 
the  same  class  the  impost  on  sugar,  coffee,  and 
other  such  articles  levied  at  the  moment  of  their 
arrival  from  the  country  which  produces  them : 
for  it  is  not  till  this  moment  they  exist,  for  the 
country  which  cannot  produce  them  and  which 
is  to  consume  them. 

This  tax  levied  at  the  moment  of  production, 
if  established  on  an  article  little  necessary  is  as 
limited  as  the  taste  we  have  for  it.  Thus,  when 
it  was  wished  to  derive  a  great  revenue  from 
tobacco,  pains  were  taken  to  render  it  a  necessary 
to  the  people.  For  if  society  is  instituted  for  the 
more  easy  satisfaction  of  the  wants  given  us  by 
nature,  and  from  which  we  cannot  withdraw 
ourselves,  it  seems  that  fiscality  is  destined  to 
create  in  us  artificial  wants,  in  order  to  refuse  us 
one  part,  and  make  us  pay  for  the  other. 

When  this  same  impost,  at  the  moment  of  pro- 
duction, is  established  on  an  article  more  neces- 
sary, it  is  susceptible  of  a  greater  extension  5  how- 
ever,  if  this  article  costs  much  labour  and  expense 
in  its  production  the  extent  of  the  impost  is  like- 
wise soon  stopt,  no  longer  through  want  of  a  desire 
to  procure  the  article,  but  by  the  impossibility  of 
paying  for  it:  for  there  must  always  reach  the 
producers  a  sufficient  portion  of  the  price  for  their 
subsistence ;  thus  there  is  less  remaining  for  the 
state. 


219 

Bat  an  impost  displays  all  its  force  when  the 
article  is  very  necessary  and  costs  very  little, 
as  salt  for  example :  there  all  is  profit  for  the 
treasury  ;  accordingly  its  agents  have  always 
paid  a  particular  attention  to  salt.  Very  rich 
mines  produce  also  the  same  effect  to  a  certain 
point,  but  in  general  governments  have  taken 
the  property  to  themselves,  which  saves  the  trouble 
of  taxing,  and  is  equivalent  to  the  process  of 
exclusive  sale.  Air  and  water,  if  they  could 
have  appropriated  them  would  have  been  objects 
of  taxation  very  heavy  and  very  fruitful  for  the 
treasury  ;  but  nature  has  diffused  them  too  widely. 
I  do  not  doubt  but,  in  Arabia,  revenue  farmers 
would  draw  great  profit  from  a  tax  on  water,  and 
so  that  no  one  should  drink  without  their  permis- 
sion. As  to  air  the  window  tax  accomplishes  as 
much  on  that  as  is  possible. 

Wine  is  not  a  gratuitous  present  from  nature. 
It  costs  much  trouble,  care  and  expense ;  and, 
notwithstanding  the  necessity  and  the  strong  desire 
we  have  to  procure  it,  we  should  with  difficulty, 
believe  it  could  support  the  enormous  charges  with 
which  it  is  burthened  at  present  in  France,  at  the 
moment  of  its  production.  If  we  were  not  apprised 
that  apart  of  this  burden  falls  directly  on  the  land 
planted  in  vines,  and  operates  only  as  a  great 
reduction  of  the  rents  paid.  In  that  way  it  has 
the  effect  of  a  land  tax,  which  is,  as  we  have 
seen  to  take  from  the  proprietor  of  the  soil  a  por- 
tion of  his  capital,  without  influencing  the  price 
of  the  products  or  encroaching  on  the  profits  of  the 
producer.  Thus  the  capitalist  is  impoverished. 


but  nothing  is  deranged  in  the  economy  of  society, 
and  this  capitalist  is  obliged  to  sustain  this  loss, 
whenever  the  land  would  yield  him  still  less  by  a 
change  of  culture. 

Corn  like  wine,  might  be  the  object  of  a  very 
heavy  tax,  levied  at  the  moment  of  production, 
independently  even  of  the  tenth,  with  which  both 
are  burthened  almost  every  where.  A  part  of  this 
impost  would  operate  in  like  manner  in  diminu- 
tion of  the  rent  of  the  land,  without  touching  the 
wages  of  the  production,  and  consequently  with- 
out increasing  the  price  of  the  article.  If  in  gene- 
ral they  have  abstained  from  this  tax,  lam  per- 
suaded it  is  not  from  a  superstitious  respect,  for 
the  principal  nourishment  of  the  poor,  which  has 
otherwise  been  charged  in  many  ways  vvhirh  en- 
hance the  price,  but  because  they  have  been  pre- 
vented by  the  difficulty  of  superintending  the  entry 
into  every  barn,  a  difficulty  which  in  effect  is  still 
greater  than  that  of  entering  every  cellar.  In 
other  respects  the  similitude  is  complete. 

Let  us  observe,  in  finishing  this  article,  that 
an  impost  thus  levied,  at  the  moment  of  produc 
tion,  on  an  article  of  indispensable  use  all  over  the 
world,  is  equivalent  to  a  real  capitation ;  but  of 
all  capitations  it  is  the  most  cruel,  for  the  poor* 
For  it  is  the  poor  who  consume  the  greatest  quanti- 
ty of  articles  of  the  first  necessity,  there  being  for 
them  no  other  substitute ;  and  they  constitute  al- 
most the  whole  of  their  expenses,  because  they  can 
only  provide  for  their  most  pressing  wants.  Thus 
such  a  capitation  is  distributed,  in  proportion  to 
misery  and  not  to  riches  in  the  direct  ratio  of  wants 


and  the  inverse  of  means.  In  this  way  we  may 
appreciate  imposts  of  this  kind.  But  they  are  very 
productive  :  for  it  is  always  the  poor  who  consti- 
tute the  great  number,  and  by  this  great  number 
great  sums.  They  little  affect  those  who  could 
make  their  complaints  be  heard ;  and  this  deter- 
mines in  their  favour.  It  cannot  be  dissembled, 
that  these  are  the  two  only  causes  of  the  preference 
given  to  them. 

As  to  imposts  levied  on  different  merchandises, 
either  at  the  moment  of  consumption  or  at  their 
different  stations,  as  on  the  public  roade,  in  the 
markets,  in  ports  at  the  gates  of  cities,  in  shops, 
&c.  &c.  their  effects  have  been  already  indicated 
by  those  we  have  just  seen  resulting  from  exclusive 
sale,  or  from  a  tax  at  the  moment  of  production,, 
These  are  of  the  same  kind,  only  they  are  com- 
monly less  general  and  less  absolute  ;  because 
they  are  more  various,  and  seldom  embrace  so 
great  an  extent  of  country.  In  fact  the  greatest 
part  of  these  imposts  are  local  measures.  A  toll 
affects  only  the  goods  which  pass  along  the  road 
or  canal  on  which  it  is  established.  At  the  en- 
trance of  towns  it  affects  directly  only  the  consump- 
tion made  within  their  interior.  (I  suppose  it» 
transit  exempt  from  duty.)  A  tax  levied  in  a 
market  or  shop  do^s  not  affect  what  is  sold  in  the 
county,  or  at  extraordinary  fairs.  Thus  it  deranges 
prices  and  industry  more  irregularly,  but  always 
deranges  them  in  the  points  on  which  they  bear. 
For  so  soon  as  an  article  is  charged  the  condition 
either  of  the  producer  or  the  consumer  is  deteriorated. 
It  is  here  that  we  meet  again  relatively  to  product* 


and  the  effects  of  taxation,  the  consequences  of 
two  important  conditions  proper  to  all  merchandise, 
the  one  being  of  the  first  necessity,  or  only  agreeable 
or  of  luxury,  the  other  that  their  conventional  or 
market  price  be  greater  than  their  natural  or  neces- 
sary one,  or  merely  equal  to  it,  as  to  being  lower, 
we  already  know  that  impossible  in  the  long  run. 

If  the  article  taxed  be  of  the  first  necessity  it 
cannot  be  dispensed  with,  it  will  always  be  bought 
while  there  are  means;  and,  if  its  conventional 
piice  be  only  equal  to  the  natural  one,  the  producer 
can  make  no  abatement ; — thus  all  the  loss  will 
fall  on  the  consumer.  Whence  we  are  to  con- 
clude, that  if  the  sale  and  the  product  of  the  tax 
diminishes,  it  is  the  consumer  who  suffers  and 
perishes. 

We  must  remark  that  in  our  old  societies  occupy- 
ing a  territory  circumscribed  long  ago,  and  able  tQ 
acquire  only  lands  already  appropriated,  this  is 
the  case  with  all  merchandises  of  the  first  necessity  ; 
for,  by  the  effect  of  the  long  contention  between 
the  contrary  interests  of  the  producer  and  consum- 
er, every  one  is  posted  in  the  social  order  accord- 
ing to  his  degree  of  capacity.  Those  who  possess 
some  talent  in  sufficient  demand  to  enable  them  to 
exact  payment  beyond  their  absolute  necessities, 
will  devote  themselves  to  the  employment  so  pre- 
ferred. None  but  those  who  cannot  succeed  in 
them  devote  themselves  to  the  indispensable  pro- 
duclions ;  because  these  are  always  in  demand* 
B  u  they  are  not  paid  more  than  is  strictly  neces- 
sary ;  because  these  are  always  inferior  persons* 
who  can  do  nothing  else. 


It  is  even  necessary  it  should  be  so :  these  arti- 
des  of  first  necessity  are  the  urgent  wants  of  all, 
and  especially  of  the  poorest  of  all  the  other  classes 
who  consume  without  producing  them,  being  occu- 
pied in  other  productions ;  thus  the  poor  can  sub- 
sist  only  in  proportion  as  these  articles  are  easy  to 
be  procured. 

The  more  indispensable  then  a  profession  is,  the 
more  inevitable  it  is  that  those  who  devote  them- 
selves to  it  for  want  of  other  capacity  should  be 
reduced  to  the  strictly  necessary.  The  only  direct 
means  of  ameliorating  the  condition  of  these  men, 
the  last  in  rank  in  society  from  their  want  of  talent, 
would  be  to  persuade  them  to  multiply  less,  and 
to  leave  them  always  free  to  go  and  exercise  their 
feeble  talent  whenever  it  would  be  the  most  pro- 
fitable. For  this  reason  expatriation  should  always 
be  permitted.  There  are  still  some  other  political 
measures  which  might  indirectly  concur  in  defend- 
ing extreme  weakness  against  extreme  misery; 
we  will  speak  of  them  elsewhere.  On  the  whole 
these  men,  whom  we  compassionate  with  justice, 
suffer  still  less  than  they  would  in  the  savage  state. 
The  proof  is  that  they  vegetate  in  greater  num- 
bers, for  man  extinguishes  but  through  excess  of 
suffering. 

We  have  already  said  all  this  elsewhere,  as 
occasions  presented  themselves ;  but  it  was  very 
necessary  to  repeat  it  here  on  the  subject  of  taxa- 
tiotf.  For  the  history  of  the  revenues  and  expen- 
ses of  government  is  the  abridgment  of  the  history 
of  production  and  consumption  of  the  whole  society; 
since  under  this  point  of  view  government  is  but  a 


very  great  annuitant,  with  whom  authority  stands, 
instead  of  capital.  Without  too  much  forcing  the 
similitude  between  the  circulation  of  riches  and  that 
of  the  blood,  we  might  say  that  the  circulation  ope- 
rated by  government  in  society,  resembles  entirely 
the  pulmonary  circulation  in  an  individual.  It  in 
extracted  from  the  total  mass,  and  returns  to 
diffuse  itself  there  again  after  having  performed  its 
functions  separately  ;  but  in  a  manner  absolutely  si- 
milar. 

If  the  article  taxed  is  not  of  the  first  necessity, 
and  if  nevertheless  its  conventional  price  is  but  equal 
to  its  necessary  one,  it  is  a  proof  that  the  consumers 
liold  feebly  to  this  enjoyment.  Then,  the  tax  superve- 
ning, the  producer  has  no  choice  but  to  renounce  his 
occupation,  and  endeavour  to  find  wa<resin  somepther 
profession;  in  which  he  will  increase  misery  by  his  con- 
currence, and  in  which  he  likewise  is  under  disadvan- 
tage from  it,  not  being  his  own.  Thus  they  perish,  in  a 
great  measure  at  least.  As  to  the  consumer,  he  loses 
hat  an  enjoyment,  to  which  he  was  little  attached 
apparently,  because  lie  easily  replaces  it  by  another ; 
which  gives  occasion  to  other  wages.  But  the  pro- 
duce of  the  tax  becomes  null. 

If,  on  the  contrary,  merchandise  of  little  neces- 
sity, stricken  by  a  tax,  has  a  conventional  price 
greatly  superior  to  its  necessary  one — and  this  is  the 
ease  with  all  articles  of  luxury,  there  is  scope 
for  the  treasury  without  reducing  any  one  precisely 
io  misery.  The  same  total  sum  is  expended  for  this 
enjoyment,  unless  the  taste  diminishes  which  has 
occasioned  it  to  be  desired  :  and  it  is  the  producer 
who  loses  almost  the  whole  of  what  the  impost  takes 


from  this  total  sura;  but,  as  he  gained  more  than  the 
necessary,  he  is  not  yet  below  it.  However  it  must 
be  observed  that  this  is  only  true  in  general.  For 
in  this  trade,  supposed  generally  advantageous,  there 
are  individuals  who  through  want  of  skill  or  good 
fortune,  obtain  only  the  slender  necessary;  and  the 
impost  supervening,  these  are  obliged  to  abandon 
their  profession;  which  is  always  a  great  suffering. 

It  is  thus  we  may  represent  to  ourselves  with  suf- 
ficient accuracy  the  direct  effects  of  the  different  im- 
posts, local  and  partial,  levied  on  merchandise  in 
their  passage  from  the  producer  to  the  consumer. 
But,  besides  these  direct  effects,  these  imposts  have 
others  that  are  indirect,  foreign  to  the  first,  or  which 
mix  with  and  complicate  them.  Thus  a  heavy  duty 
on  an  important  article,  levied  at  the  entrance  of  a 
city,  diminishes  on  one  hand  the  rent  of  its  houses, 
by  rendering  its  habitation  less  desirable,  and  on  the 
other  it  diminishes  the  rent  of  land  which  produces 
the  dutied  article,  by  rendering  the  sale  less  conside- 
rable or  less  advantageous.  Here  then  idle  capital- 
ists, although  they  should  be  absent  and  not  consu- 
mers of  any  thing,  are  affected  in  their  capital,  as  by 
a  land  tax  while  it  is  believed  that  only  the  consumer 
or  producer  is  affected.  This  is  so  true,  that  these 
proprietors,  if  it  were  proposed  to  them,  would  mak* 
sacrifices  to  pay  off  a  part  of  the  funds  of  this  impost; 
or  directly  furnish  a  part  of  vtheir  annual  produce* 
This  we  have  seen  a  thousand  times. 

What  is  more,  in  our  economical  considerations 

wo  often  regard  as  real  consumers  of  an   article 

those  only  who   effectively  consume  it    for  their 

personal  satisfaction ;  yet  they  are  by  no  means 

89 


the  only  buyers  of  the  article.  Often  the  gi-eater 
part  of  those  who  procure  it  purchase  it  as  a  first 
material  of  other  productions,  and  as  a  material  of 
their  industry.  Then  the  tax-  on  these  articles 
affects  all  these  productions,  and  all  these  occupa- 
tions. It  is  what  particularly  happens  to  articles 
of  very  general  use,  or  of  indispensable  necessity. 
They  make  apart  of  the  expenses  of  all  producers, 
but  in  different  degrees. 

Finally,  we  must  likewise  observe,  that  the 
imposts  of  which  wre  are  speaking  never  fall  alto- 
gether on  a  single  article.  They  are  at  the  same 
time  levied  on  many  different  kinds  of  goods,  that 
is  to  say  on  many  species  of  productions  and  con- 
sumptions. On  each,  according  to  its  nature,  they 
operate  some  of  the  effects  we  have  just  explained  ; 
so  that  all  these  different  effects  reciprocally  clash, 
balance  and  resist  each  other.  For  the  new  ex- 
penses, with  which  any  kind  of  industry  is  burden- 
ed, lessen  the  promptitude  to  engage  in  it,  in  pre- 
ference to  another  which  has  also  experienced  an 
injury  of  the  same  kind.  The  burden  which 
oppresses  one  kind  of  consumption,  prevents  its 
becoming  a  substitute  for  that  which  we  wish  to 
renounce.  Whence  it  results,  that  if  it  were  pos- 
sible so  completely  to  foresee  all  these  reverberations 
as  to  be  able  perfectly  to  balance  all  the  weights 
and  to  place  them  all  at  the  same  time,  so  as  to  pro- 
duce every  where  an  equal  pressure,  no  proportiou 
would  be  changed  by  them.  They  \vould  produce 
all  together  no  other  effect  than  the  general  one  in- 
herent in  all  imposts,  namely  that  the  producer 
would  have  less  money  for  his  labour  and  the  con- 


sumer  less  enjoyment  for  his  money.  We  might 
consider  imposts  as  good  when  to  this  general  and 
inevitable  evil  they  do  not  join  particular  evils  too 
distressing. 

I  shall  follow  no  farther  this  examination  of  the 
different  kinds  of  imposts.  I  think  I  have  said 
enough  to  enable  all  to  judge  of  them,  and  especially 
to  show  as  clearly  as  that  is  possible  on  whom  the 
loss  occasioned  by  them  really  falls. 

In  effect,  we  see  first,  that  the  tax  on  annuities 
due  by  the  state  and  that  on  the  income  of  land, 
are  not  only  annually  paid  by  those  on  whom  they 
fall  without  their  being  able  to  throw  any  part  of 
them  on  others  but  that  they  lose  even  the  capital  ; 
so  that  after  them  nobody  really  pays  any  thing. 
Secondly,  that  it  is  the  same  with  the  tax  on  the 
rent  of  houses ;  but  that  moreover  it  restrains 
speculations  in  building,  and  diminishes  the  comfort 
of  tenants.  Thirdly,  that  a  personal  tax,  having 
acquired  riches  for  its  object  does  no  wrong  but  to 
those  from  whom  it  is  demanded ;  but  does  not 
liberate  those  who  are  to  pay  it  after  them. 
Fourthly,  that  the  loss  resulting  from  a  tax  on  the 
instruments  of  social  transactions  is  really  supported 
by  those  from  whom  it  is  demanded,  whenever  the 
occasion  of  paying  it  occurs  ;  but  that  its  existence 
alone  is  injurious  to  others,  by  reducing  the  price 
of  several  things  and  shackling  several  kinds  of 
industry.  Fifthly,  that  a  personal  tax  which  has 
for  its  object  any  kind  of  industry  whatsoever, 
and  all  taxes  on  merchandise,  burden  first  all  those 
from  whom  they  are  demanded  ;  and,  moreover, 
that  they  derange  all  prices  and  all  kinds  of  in- 


328 

dustry ;  and  that,  by  the  e fleet  of  their  numerous 
reverberations  they  end  by  falling  on  all  the  con- 
sumers, so  as  that  we  cannot  precisely  ascertain  in 
what  proportions. 

I  know  that  these  results,  separated,  distinguish- 
ed, modified,  will  appear  less  satisfactory  than  a 
very  dogmatical  decision  which,  treating  the  series 
of  the  interests  of  men  as  a  row  of  ivory  halls, 
should  affirm  that  which  ever  is  touched  the  last 
only  is  put  in  motion  ;  but  I  could  only  repre- 
sent things  as  I  see  them,  and  not  as  they  may  be 
imagined.  If  extreme  simplicity  pleases  the 
understanding  by  relieving  it,  if  even  it  is  for  this 
that  it  creates  abstractions,  a  good  understanding 
ought  not  to  forget  that  this  extreme  simplicity  is 
found  only  in  itself;  and  that  even  in  mechanics, 
as  soon  as  there  is  a  question  of  real  bodies,  it  is 
necessary  to  have  regard  to  many  considerations, 
which  have  no  place  so  long  as  we  reason  on 
mathematical  lines  and  points.  Nevertheless, 
urged  by  the  desire  of  arriving  at  a  positive  prin- 
ciple, I  shall  be  asked  perhaps,  as  I  have  been 
already  asked  on  a  similar  occasion,  what  is  my 
conclusion,  and  what  is  the  tax  which  I  prefer. 
Having  exposed  the  facts,  I  might  leave  to  the 
reader  to  draw  his  own  consequences.  But  I  will 
give,  my  opinion  with  its  reasons,  warning  however 
beforehand  that  it  will  never  be  absolute,  but 
always  relative  ;  for  a  tax  is  never  good  when  it 
is  exaggerated,  nor  even  when  it  is  not  in  propor- 
tion to  all  others. 

First  I  remind,  that  the  consumption  of  industri- 
ous men;  that  which  I  have  called  productive  con- 


sumption,  being  the  only  one  that  reproduces  what 
it  destroy  s,  and  being  therefore  the  only  source  of 
riches,  it  is  that  above  all  which  we  ought  to  endea- 
vour not  to  derange. 

Setting  out  from  this  truth,  the  tax  on  the  annui- 
ties due  by  the  state  would  appear  to  me  the  best  of 
all ;  but  it  is  impossible  to  think  of  it,  since  we  have 
seen  that  it  is  a  true  bankruptcy.  It  is  not  that  I 
think  it  useful  to  cherish  the  public  credit.  I  think, 
on  the  contrary,  it  is  an  evil  for  the  government 
to  have  credit,  and  to  be  able  to  borrow  ;  I  will  give 
the  reason  when  I  shall  speak  of  its  debts.  Moral  con- 
siderations alone  determine  me  invincibly.  Society 
being  entirely  founded  on  conventions,  it  is  impossi- 
ble that  it  should  not  be  pernicious  to  give  an  exam- 
ple of  the  violation  of  plighted  faith.  No  pecuniary 
calculation  can  counterbalance  such  an  inconvenience. 
Its  consequences  are  immense  and  fatal.  The  true 
method  of  taxing  annuitants  is  to  administer  well. 
This  causes  them  to  receive  but  a  low  interest  for 
their  money. 

After  this  tax,  of  which  we  cannot  think,  the  best 
in  my  opinion  are  those  which  resemble  it  the  most, 
that  is  to  say  the  taxes  on  the  income  of  land,  and  on 
the  rent  of  houses,  to  which  we  may  join  that  per- 
sonal tax  which  has  for  its  object  riches  already  ac- 
quired. It  will  be  seen,  that  if  I  prefer  the  tax  on 
the  income  of  land,  it  is  not  for  the  reasons  of  the 
ancient  economists.  It  is  on  the  contrary,  because  1 
regard  the  proprietors  of  land  as  strangers  to  re- 
production. Moreover,  I  consider  these  three  im- 
posts, which  bear  principally  on  the  rich,  as  a  com- 
pensation for  the  imposts  on  merchandise,  which  lie 


230 

eessarily  oppress  principally  the  poor.  I  have  no 
need  to  say  that  the  tax  on  land  ought  not  to  be  such 
that  much  land  would  he  neglected. 

The  tax  on  deeds  and  social  transactions,  notwith- 
standing its  inconvrtniencies,  appear  to  me  admissible 
also,  provided  it  be  not  exaggerated.  Extending  to 
many  things,  it  bears  on  many  points,  which  is  al- 
ways an  advantage ;  and  it  does  not  press  imme- 
diately on  the  first  wants  of  the  poor,  which  is  also  a 
great  good. 

As  to  taxes  on  merchandise,  to  which  we  must 
join  the  personal  tax  which  has  presumed  industry 
for  its  object,  I  begin  by  rejecting  absolutely  all  ex- 
clusive sales  ;  and  yet  more,  all  forced  sales,  as  well 
as  every  measure  tending  to  shackle  the  freedom  of  la- 
bour, and  to  injure  individual  property,  that  is  to  say 
the  entire  disposition  of  personal  faculties.  These 
excesses  provided  against,  I  see  nothing  to  forbid 
the  establishment  of  taxes  on  merchandise.  First, 
all  those  on  articles  purely  of  luxury  are  excellent^ 
and  have  nothing  but  advantages  without  any  ineon- 
veniencies.  They  diminish  the  effects  of  the  exces- 
sive inequality  of  fortunes,  by  rendering  more  costly 
the  enjoyments  of  extreme  luxury.  They  are  the 
only  sumptuary  laws  which  can  be  approved.  But 
these  are  the  taxes  against  which  powerful  men  ex- 
claim the  most ;  besides  they  are  always  of  very 
slender  product,  for  in  all  cases  it  is  the  great  number, 
though  too  much  despised,  which  constitutes  the 
force.  We  must  therefore  have  recourse  to  taxes 
on  more  useful  merchandise,  and  even  on  those  of 
first  necessity :  for,  in  short,  there  must  be  a  public 
revenue.  These,  as  we  have  said,  bear  principal- 


S31 

ly  on  the  poor ;  but,  SLS  we  have  also  said,  tliev  are 
balanced  by  those  which  bear  solely  on  the  prep!  !e~ 
tors  of  land,  and  they  justify  them.  Besides,  levied 
at  the  gates  of  cities,  they  contribute  to  desseminate 
the  population  over  the  whole  extent  of  the  territory, 
levied  at  the  frontiers,  they  Inay  be  useful  on  some 
diplomatic  combinations,  so  long  as  sound  policy 
has  not  their  entire  direction.  I  do  not  think  then 
we  should  blame  these  impositions.  I  confine  my- 
self to  the  recommendation,  that  they  never  be  so 
heavy  as  to  crush  any  kind  of  industry ;  and  that 
tLey  be  very  various,  that  they  may  bear  on  all. 
All  are  taken  care  of  when  all  are  so  charged  as  that 
each  will  sustain  its  part  of  the  common  burden, 
for  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  our  only  question 
here  is  ever  how,  to  do  the  least  evil  possible ;  and 
tiiat  when  we  have  well  distributed  the  necessary 
evil,  we  have  attained  the  maximum  of  perfection 
in  this  art. 

The  expense  of  collection  and  the  necesity  of 
punishments  are  likewise  two  accessory  evils  of 
taxation,  to  which,  some  it  is  true  are  more  subject 
than  others  ;  but  on  which  I  have  nothing  to  say. 
But  that  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  are  carried 
to  extremes  when  the  taxes  are  not  excessive  and 
when  not  enforced  by  tyrannical  forms.  Thus  I 
regard  them  only  as  secondary  considerations. 

This  is  what  I  think  of  imposts.  But  is  a  more 
precise  conclusion  desired  ?  Here  it  is.  The  best 
taxes  in  my  opinion  are,  first,  the  most  moderate, 
because  they  occasion  fewer  sacrifices,  and  less  " 
violence.  Second,  the  most  various,  because  they 
produce  an  equilibrium  of  the  whole.  Third, 


S32 

the  most  ancient,  because  they  have  entered  into 
all  prices  and  that  all  are  regulated  in  consequence. 
Once  more  J  fear  that  this  decision  will  not  be 
satisfactory.  It  is  not  sufficiently  striking  to  be 
brilliant;  but  except  in  its  moderation,  (which  is 
often  wanting  through  necessity)  it  is  sufficiently 
conformable  with  what  is  practised  every  where; 
and  if  it  be  just  as  1  think  it  is,  it  will  be  a  new 
example  of  an  intellectual  phenomenon  very  com- 
mon, but  which  has  not  always  been  sufficiently 
remarked:  that  in  matters  somewhat  difficult  the 
practice  is,  provisionally,  sufficiently  reasonable 
long  before  the  theory  becomes  so ;  and,  when  the 
subject  is  thoroughly  examined,  we  perceive  that 
the  good  sense  of  the  public  (I  might  almost  say 
the  general  instinct)  has  less  wandered  from  the 
right  road  than  the  first  scientific  speculations.  The 
reason  is  simple.  In  practice  we  are  close  to  the 
facts  ;  they  present  themselves  every  moment,  they 
guide  us,  they  retain  us,  they  continually  bring  us 
back  to  what  is,  to  the  truth.  Whereas  in  specu- 
lative combinations,  which  consist  all  in  deductions, 
one  first  false  supposition  suffices  to  lead  us  very 
consequently  into  the  greatest  errors,  without  any 
thing  apprizing  us  of  it.  This  is  the  cause  of  the 
blind  attachment  so  generally  manifested  for  what, 
ever  is  in  use,  and  the  great  distrust  inspired  by 
every  new  truth  too  contrary  to  it.  This  disposi- 
tion is  without  doubt  exaggerated,  but  it  is  sufficient- 
ly founded  in  reason.  However  this  may  be,  we 
have  said  enough  »on  the  revenues  of  government* 
Let  us  occupy  ourselves  with  its  expenses* 


233 

We  have  little  to  say  on  this  subject.  We  have 
seen  that  government  in  every  country  is  a  very 
great  consumer,  and  a  consumer  of  the  kind  of 
those  who  live  on  revenues,  and  not  on  profits  $ 
that  it  is  a  very  great  annuitant  with  whom  autho- 
rity is  instead  of  capital.  Consequently  all  we 
have  said  of  this  species  of  consumers  is  applicable 
to  it.  Its  expense  does  not  re-produce  itself  in 
its  hands,  with  an  increase  of  value,  as  in  those 
of  industrious  men.  Its  consumption  is  real  and 
definitive.  Nothing  remains  from  the  labour  it 
hires.  The  riches  it  employs,  and  which  did  exist 
before  they  passed  into  its  hands,  are  consumed 
and  destroyed  when  it  has  made  use  of  them,  la 
effect,  in  what  consists  the  much  greater  part  of  its 
expense?  In  paying  soldiers,  seamen,  judges, 
and  officers  of  every  kind,  and  in  defraying  all 
the  expenses  required  by  these  different  services. 
All  this  is  very  useful  without  doubt,  and  even 
necessary  in  the  whole,  if  the  desirable  economy 
is  employed  in  it ;  but  nothing  of  all  this  is  produc- 
tive. The  expenditure  which  government  may 
incur  to  enrich  the  favourites  of  power  is  equally 
sterile,  and  has  not  the  excuse  of  necessity  nor  even 
of  utility.  Accordingly  it  is  still  more  disagreeable 
to  the  public,  which  it  injures  instead  of  serving. 
It  is  quite  otherwise  with  funds  employed  in  public 
labours  of  a  general  utility,  such  as  bridges,  ports, 
roads,  canals,  and  useful  establishments  aad  monu- 
ments. These  expenses  are  always  favourably  re- 
garded, when  not  excessive.  They  contribute  in  efc 
feet  very  powerfully  to  public  prosperity.  However 
they  cannot  be  regarded  as  directly  productive, 

40 


In  the  hands  of  government,  since  they  do  not 
return  to  it  with  profit  and  do  not  create  for  it  a 
revenue  which  represents  the  interest  of  the  funds 
they  have  absorbed,  or  if  that  happens,  we  must 
conclude  that  individuals  could  have  done  the  same 
things,  on  the  same  conditions,  if  they  had  been 
permitted  to  retain  the  disposal  of  the  sums  taken 
from  them  for  this  same  use ;  and  it  is  even  probable 
that  they  would  have  employed  them  with  more 
intelligence  and  economy.  Finally,  we  may  say 
the  same  things  of  what  the  government  expends, 
on  different  encouragements  of  the  sciences  and 
arts.  These  sums  are  always  small  enough  and 
their  utility  is  most  frequently  very  questionable, 
For  it  is  very  certain  that  in  general  the  most  power- 
ful  encouragement  that  can  be  given  to  industry  of 
every  kind,  is  to  let  it  alone,  and  not  to  meddle 
with  it.  The  human  mind  would  advance  very 
rapidly  if  only  not  restrained  ;  and  it  would  be 
led,  by  the  force  of  things  to  do  always  what  is 
roost  essential  on  every  occurrence.  To  direct 
it  artificially  on  one  side  rather  than  on  another, 
is  commonly  to  lead  it  astray  instead  of  guiding  it. 
Nevertheless  let  us  also  admit  the  constant  utility 
of  this  kind  of  expenses  ;  not  very  considerable  in 
relation  to  money,  it  is  not  the  less  true  that,  like 
all  the  preceding,  they  are  real  expenses  which  do 
not  return. 

From  all  this  I  conclude,  that  the  whole  of  the 
public  expenses  ought  to  be  ranged  in  the  class  of 
expenses  justly  called  sterile  and  unproductive, 
and  consequently  that  whatever  is  paid  to  the  state, 
either  under  the  title  of  a  tax  or  even  of  a  loan,  i§ 


235 

a  result  of  productive  labour  previously  executed, 
which  ought  to  be  considered  as  entirely  consumed 
and  annihilated  the  day  it  enters  the  national  trea- 
sury. Once  more  I  repeat  it,  this  is  not  saying 
that  this  sacrifice  is  not  necessary,  and  even  indis- 
pensable. Without  doubt  it  is  necessary  that  every 
citizen,  from  the  product  of  his  actual  labour,  or 
the  income  of  his  capital  which  is  the  product  of 
more  ancient  labour,  should  give  what  is  necessary 
to  (he  state ;  as  it  is  necessary  to  keep  up  his  house, 
that  he  may  lodge  in  it  in  safety.  But  he  should 
know  that  it  is  a  sacrifice  he  makes  ;  that  what  he 
gives  is  immediately  lost,  to  the  public  riches,  as 
to  his  own  ;  in  a  word,  that  it  is  an  expense  and 
not  an  investment  Finally,  no  one  should  be  so 
blind  as  to  believe  that  expenses  of  any  kind  are 
a  direc?  cause  of  the  augmentation  of  fortune ;  and 
that  every  person  should  know  well  that  for  politi- 
cal societies,  as  well  as  for  commercial  ones,  an 
expensive  regimen  is  ruinous,  and  that  the  best  is 
the  most  economical.  On  the  whole,  this  is  one  of 
those  truths  which  the  good  ^ense  of  the  people 
had  perceived  for  a  long  time  before  it  was  clear  to 
the  greatest  politicians. 

If,  from  the  examination  of  the  ordinary  expenses 
of  government,  we  pass  to  that  of  its  extraordinary 
expenses  and  of  the  debts  which  are  their  conse- 
quence, the  same  principles  will  guide  us.  This  is 
likewise  a  subject  on  which  the  general  good  sense 
has  greatly  preceded  the  science  of  the  pretended 
adepts.  Simple  men  have  always  known,  that 
they  impoverished  themselves  by  spending  more 
than  their  income,  and  that  in  no  case  is  it  good  to 


be  in  debt ;  and  men  of  genius  believed  and  even 
Wrote,  not  long  since  that  the  loans  of  government  are 
a  cause  of  prosperity,  and  that  a  public  debt  is  new 
wealth  created  in  the  bosom  of  society.  However, 
since  we  are  convinced,  first,  that  the  ordinary  ex- 
penses of  government  add  nothing  to  the  general 
mass  of  circulation,  and  only  change  its  course  in 
a  manner  most  often  disadvantageous ;  Secondly, 
that  they  are  of  such  a  nature,  also,  as  to  add  nothing 
to  the  mass  of  riches  previously  produced,  from 
Which  they  are  taken,  we  ought  to  conclude  that 
the  extraordinary  expenses  of  this  same  govern- 
ment being  of  the  same  nature  as  its  ordinary 
expenses,  are  equally  incapable  of  producing  either 
the  one  or  the  other  of  these  good  effects.  As  to, 
the  ridiculous  idea,  that  in  issuing  certificates  of 
dues  from  the  state  a  new  value  is  really  created, 
it  does  not  merit  a  serious  refutation  :  for  if  those 
who  receive  these  certificates  possess  a  certain  sum 
the  more,  it  is  evident  that  the  state  which  issues 
them  must  possess  an  equal  sum,  the  less ;  other- 
wise we  must  say  that  as  often  as  I  subcribe  an 
obligation  of  a  thousand  francs,  1  augmeqt  the  total 
mass  of  riches  by  a  thousand  francs,  which  is 
absurd.  Thus  it  is  very  certain,  that  in  no  case 
have  we  reason  to  rejoice  at  the  increase  of  the 
consumption  of  government,  and  the  greatness  of 
public  expenses. 

But,  finally,  when  these  expenses  are  very  consi= 
derablc,  ought  we  to  felicitate  ourselves  on  being 
able  to  meet  them  by  loans,  rather  than  taxes  ?  or, 
in  other  words,  is  it  happy  for  the  governed,  that 
the  government  should  make  use  of  its  credit,  or 


237 

even  that  it  should  have  credit  ?  This  is  the  last 
question  which  remains  to  be  treated,  before  finish, 
ing  this  chapter.  I  know  it  is  resolved  for  many 
statesmen,  and  even  for  may  speculative  writers, 
who  firmly  believe  that  public  credit  constitutes  the 
force  and  safety  of  the  state ;  that  it  is  a  great  cause 
of  prosperity  in  ordinary  times,  and  the  only  effica. 
cious  resource  in  urgent  necessities ;  and  thus  that  it 
is  the  true  palladium  of  society. 

Yet  I  think  I  have  good  reasons  for  combatting 
their  opinion.  I  will  say  nothing  of  the  grevious 
effects  of  loans  on  the  social  organization,  of  the 
enormous  power  they  give  to  the  governors  of  the 
facility  they  afford  them  of  doing  whatsoever  they 
please,  of  drawing  every  thing  tp  themselves,  of  en- 
riching their  creatures,  of  dispensing  with  the  as- 
sembling and  consulting  the  citizens ;  which  ope- 
rates rapidly  the  overthrow  of  every  constitution* 
These  things  are  not  now  my  subject.  I  consider 
in  loans  at  this  moment  but  their  pure  economical  ef- 
fects ;  and  it  is  solely  under  this-  point  of  view  that 
I  am  going  to  discuss  their  advantages  and  incon- 
veniencies. 

The  first  thing  said  in  favour  of  loans  is,  that 
the  funds  procured  by  these  means  are  not  taken  in- 
voluntarily, from  any  one.  I  think  this  an  illusion. 
In  effect  it  is  very  true,  that  when  government  bor- 
rows it  forces  no  one  to  lend  ;  for  we  must  not  re- 
gard forced  loans,  as  loans,  but  as  contributions. 
When,  therefore,  the  lenders  carry  their  money  to 
the  public  treasury  it  is  freely  and  voluntarily ;  but 
the  operation  does  not  end  there.  These  capitalists 
have  lent,  not  given ;  and  they  certainly  intend  to 


238 

lose  neither  principal  nor  interest.  Consequently, 
they  force  the  government  to  raise,  one  day  or  other, 
a  sum  equal  to  that  which  they  furnish  and  to  the 
Interest  which  they  demand  for  it.  Thus,  hy  their 
«hligingnes«s,  they  burthen  without  their  consent  not 
only  the  citizens  actually  existing,  but  also  future 
generations.  This  is  so  true,  that  the  kind  of 
easement,  which  their  service  produces  for  the  pre- 
sent moment,  only  amounts  to  a  rejection  of  a  part 
of  the  burden  on  future  times. 

This  circumstance,  in  my  opinion,  gives  room  for 
a  great  question ;  which  I  am  astonished  to  have 
seen  no  where  discussed.  A  government  of  any 
fcind,.  whether  monarchical  or  polyarchical,  in  a. 
word  of  men  nmv  existing,  has  it  a  right  thus  to 
hurden  raen  not  yet  in  existence,  and  to  compel 
them  to  pay  in  future  times  their  present  expenses  ? 
This  is  not  even  the  case  of  a  testament ;  against 
which  it  has  been  said,  with  reason,  that  no  man 
lias  the  right  of  being  obeyed  after  his  death.  For> 
in  fine,  the  society  which  for  the  general  good  takes 
so  many  different  powers  from  its  individual  mem- 
bers may  well  grant  them  this,  and  guarantee  it 
if  it  is  useful  to  them  ;  and  the  heirs  of  the  testators 
are  always  at  liberty  to  accept  or  to  refuse  their 
Inheritances,  which  at  bottom  belong  to  them  only 
in  virtue  of  the  laws  which  give  them,  and  under 
the  conditions  prescribed  By  the  laws.  But  when 
there  is  a  question  of  public  interest  the  case  is 
quite  different.  One  generation  does  not  receive 
from  another,  as  aa  inheritance,  the  right  of  living 
in  society ;  and  of  living  therein  under  such  laws' 
as  it  pleases.  The  first  has  nor  right  to  say  to 


339 

second,  if  you  wish  to  succeed  me,  it  is  thus  you 
must  live  and  thus  you  must  conduct  yourself.  For 
from  such  a  right  it  would  follow  that  a  law  once 
made  could  never  be  changed.  Thus  the  actual 
legislative  power,  (whatever  it  be)  which  is  always 
considered  as  the  organ  of  the  actual  general  will> 
can  neither  oblige  nor  restrain  the  future  legislative 
power,  which  will  be  the  organ  of  the  general  will 
of  a  time  yet  to  come.  It  is  on  this  very  reason- 
able principle  that  it  is  acknowledged  in  England 
that  one  parliament  cannot  vote  a  tax  but  until  the 
commencement  of  another,  or  even  until  a  new 
session  of  the  same  parliament.  1  know  well  that 
to  apply  this  principle  generally  to  the  debts  of  $ 
country  where  it  is  not  admitted,  and  where  prior 
engagements  have  been  entered  into  bona  fide, 
would  be  to  violate  public  faith;  and  I  have  here, 
tofore  sufficiently  manifested  my  profound  belief 
that  such  an  act  can  never  be  either  just  pr  useful, 
two  terms  for  me  absolutely  equivalent  to  reason 
and  virtue.  But  it  is  not  the  less  true,  to  return 
to  the  example  of  England,  that  it  is  contradictory, 
and  consequently  absurd  that  a  parliament  should 
think  it  could  not  vote  taxes  but  for  one  year,  and 
should  think  it  could  vote  a  loan  on  a  perpetual 
annuity  or  on  long  reimbursements:  for  this  is  to 
vote  a  necessity  for  taxes  sufficient  to  pay  these 
annuities  or  these  reimbursements,  without  a  right 
to  refuse  them.  I  find  the  principle  formerly  ad- 
mitted in  Spain  much  more  sensible  and  honourable, 
that  the  engagements  of  one  king  are  not  binding 
on  his  successor.  At  least  those  who  contract 
with  him  know  the  risques  they  run  and  have  no 


240 

room  for  complaint  of  what  may  happen  to  them. 
We  shall  soon  see  that  this  principle,  put  in  prac- 
tice, is  as  beneficial  as  it  is  reasonable. 

For  the  present  I  only  maintain,  that,  since 
definitively  the  principal  and  interest  of  a  loan 
can  never  be  paid  but  by  taxes,  the  funds  which 
government  procures  by  this  mean  end  always  in 
being  involuntarily  taken  from  individuals;  and. 
what  is  worse,  from  individuals  not  obliged,  because 
they  have  never  engaged  either  by  themselves  or 
by  their  legitimate  or  legal  representatives.  1  call 
legal,  those  whom  the  existing  law  authorizes  ; 
and  whose  acts  are  valid,  even  if  the  law  is  not 
just. 

The  second  advantage  which  is  found  in  loans, 
is  that  the  sums  which  they  furnish  are  not  taken 
from  productive  consumption :  since  it  is  not  under 
takers  of  industry  who  place  their  funds  in  the 
hands  of  the  state  ;  but  idle  capitalists  only  living 
on  their  revenue,  who  choose  this  kind  of  annuity 
rather  than  another.  I  answer  that  this  second 
advantage  is  not  less  illusory  than  the  first.  For 
although  it  be  true  that  those  who  lend  to  govern- 
ment are  not,  in  general,  the  men  who  have  joined 
their  personal  industry  to  their  capital,  to  ren- 
der them  more  useful  in  productive  employments  ; 
yet  it  happens  that  there  are  many  of  these  lenders 
whom  the  facility  of  procuring  a  sufficient  existence, 
without  risque  or  fatigue,  has  alone  disgusted  from 
labour  and  thrown  theni  into  idleness.  Besides. 
even  admitting  that  all  were  equally  idle  if  the 
state  had  not  borrowed,  it  is  certain  that  if  they 
had  not  lent  it  their  money  they  would  have  lent 


it  to  industrious  men.  From  that  time  these  indus- 
trious men  would  have  had  greater  capitals  to  work 
on,  and,  by  the  effect  of  the  concurrence  of  lenders, 
they  would  have  procured  them  at  a  lower  interest. 
Now  these  are  two  great  goods  of  which  the  public 
loans  deprive  them.  In  fine  it  cannot  be  denied 
that  without  a  bankruptcy,  when  a  sum  is  borrow- 
ed it  must  be  repaid  ;  and,  to  repay  it,  it  must  be 
levied  on  the  citizens.  Thus,  sooner  or  later,  it 
affects  industry  as  much  and  in  the  same  manner 
as  if  it  had  been  levied  at  first.  Moreover,  there 
must  be  added  to  this  all  the  interest  paid  by  the 
state  till  the  moment  of  reimbursement ;  and  it  is 
easy  to  see  that  in  few  years  these  interests  have 
doubled  the  capital,  and  consequently  the  evil. 

But  at  this  day,  in  Europe,  we  are  so  habituated 
to  the  existence  of  a  public  debt,  that  when  we  have 
found  the  means  of  borrowing  money  on  perpetual 
annuities,  and  of  securing  payment  of  the  interest, 
we  think  ourselves  liberated  and  no  longer  owing 
any  thing ;  and  we  do  not  or  will  not  see  that  this 
interest  absorbinga  part  of  the  public  revenue  (which 
was  already  insufficient)  since  we  have  been  obliged 
to  borrow,  is  the  cause  that  this  same  revenue  still 
less  suffices  for  subsequent  expenses ;  that  soon  we 
must  borrow  again  to  provide  for  this  new  deficit, 
and  load  ourselves  with  new  interest;  and  that,  thus 
in  but  a  short  time  it  is  found  that  a  considerable 
portion  of  all  the  riches  annually  produced  is  em- 
ployed, not  for  the  service  of  the  state,  but  to  sup- 
port a  crowd  of  useless  annuitants.  And  to  fill  the 
measure  of  our  evils,  who  are  these  lenders?  Men 
not  only  idle,  as  are  all  annuitants ;  but  also  coin* 

41 


pletely  indifferent  to  the  success  or  failure  of  the  in- 
dustrious class  to  which  they  have  lent  nothing:  ha- 
ving absolutely  no  interest  but  the  permanence  of 
the  borrowing  government,  whatsoever  it  be  or  what- 
soever it  does;  and  at  the  same  time  having  no  de- 
sire but  to  see  it  embarrassed,  to  the  end  that  it  may 
be  forced  to  keep  fair  with  them  and  pay  them  better. 
Consequently  natural  enemies  to  the  true  interests  of 
society,  or  at  least  being  absolutely  strangers  to  them. 
I  do  not  pretend  to  say  that  all  the  annuitants  of  the 
state  are  bad  citizens :  but  I  say  that  their  situation 
is  calculated  to  render  them  such.  I  add  further, 
that  life  annuities  tend  moreover  to  break  family- 
ties  ;  and  that  the  great  abundance  of  public  effects 
cannot  fail  of  producing  a  crowd  of  licentious  gam- 
blers in  the  funds.  The  truth  of  what  1  advance 
is  manifested  in  a  very  odious  and  fatal  manner  in 
all  great  cities  without  commerce ;  and  especially  in 
all  the  capitals  in  which  this  class  of  men  is  very 
numerous  and  very  powerful ;  and  has  many  means 
of  giving  weight  to  their  passions,  and  of  pervert- 
ing the  public  opinion. 

It  is  then  as  erroneous  to  believe  that  the  loans  of 
government  are  not  hurtful  to  national  industry,  as 
it  is  to  suppose  that  the  funds  which  they  produce, 
are  not  taken  from  any  individual  involuntarily. 
In  truth  these  are  not  the  real  reasons  which  cause 
so  much  importance  to  be  attached  to  the  possibility 
of  borrowing.  The  great  advantage  of  loans,  in 
the  eyes  of  their  partisans,  is  that  they  furnish  in 
a  moment  enormous  sums,  which  could  only  have 
been  very  slowly  procured  by  means  of  taxes,  even 
the  most  overwhelming.  Mow  I  do  not  hesitate 


to  declare  that  T  regard  this  pretended  advantage 
as  the  greatest  of  all  evils.  It  is  nothing  else  than 
a  mean  of  urging  men  to  excessive  efforts,  which 
exhaust  them  and  destroy  the  sources  of  their  life. 
Montesquieu  perceived  it  well.  After  having  paint- 
ed very  energetically  the  state  of  distress  and 
anxiety  to  which  the  exaggeration  of  the  public 
expenses  had  already,  in  his  time,  reduced  the 
people  of  Europe,  who  ought  by  their  industry  to 
have  been  the  most  flourishing,  he  adds,  "  And, 
46  what  prevents  all  remedy  in  future,  they  no  longer 
"  count  on  the  revenues ;  but  make  war  with 
"  their  capital  It  is  not  unheard  of  *  for  states 
"  to  mortgage  their  funds  even  during  peace,  and 
"  employ  to  ruin  themselves  means  which  they 
"  call  extraordinary ;  and  which  are  so  much  so 
"  that  an  heir  of  a  family  the  most  deranged  could 
"  with  difficulty  imagine  them.f" 

It  will  not  fail  to  be  said  that  this  is  to  abuse 
its  credit,  and  not  to  use  it ;  and  that  the  abuse 
which  may  be  made  of  it  does  not  prevent  its  being 
good  to  have  it.  I  answer,  first,  that  the  abuse  is 
inseparable  from  the  use,  and  experience  proves 
it.  It  is  scarcely  two  hundred  years  since  the 
progress  of  civilization,  of  industry,  of  commerce, 
that  of  the  social  order,  and  perhaps  also  the 
increase  of  specie,  have  given  to  governments  the 
facility  of  making  loans  ;  and  in  this  short  space 
of  time  these  dangerous  expedients  have  led  them 
all  either  to  total  or  partial  bankruptcies,  some- 

*  He  ought  to  have  said,  '  it  is  frequent'. 
f  Spirit  of  laws,  book  I3tb,  Chap.  \" 


times  repeated,  or  to  the  equally  shameful  and 
more  previous  resource  of  paper  money,  or  to  re- 
main overburdened  under  the  weight  of  a  load 
which  daily  becomes  more  insupportable. 

But  I  go  farther.  1  maintain  that  the  evil  is  not 
in  the  abuse  ;  but  in  the  use  itself  of  loans,  that  is 
to  say  that  the  abuse  and  the  use  are  one  and  the 
same  thing;  and  that  every  time  a  government 
borrows  it  takes  a  step  towards  its  ruin.  The  rea- 
son of  this  is  simple  :  A  loan  may  be  a  good  opera- 
tion for  an  industrious  man,  whose  consumption 
reproduces  with  profit.  By  means  of  the  sums 
which  ;  he  borrows,  he  augments  this  productive 
consumption ;  and  with  it  his  profits.  But  a  go- 
vernment which  is  a  consumer  of  the  class  of  those 
whose  consumption  is  sterile  and  destructive,  dissi- 
pates whatMt  borrows,  it  is  so  much  lost  for  ever ; 
and  it  remains  burdened  with  a  deht,  which  is  so 
much  taken  from  its  future  means.*  This  cannot 
be  otherwise.  In  several  countries  they  have  com- 
menced, by  being  long  without  feeling  the  bad 
effects  of  these  operations;  because  the  progress 
of  industry  and  the  arts  being  very  great  at  this 
epoch,  their  advance  has  been  found  more  rapid 
than  that  of  the.  debt ;  and  the  means  of  the  govern- 
ment have  not  failed  to  augment  also.  Many  have 
even  concluded  that  a  public  debt  was  a  source 
of  prosperity,  while  it  only  proved  that  individuals 
did  more  good  than  the  government  did  evil ;  but 
this  evil  was  not  the  less  real ;  and  nobody  now 
undertakes  to  deny  it. 

These  cogent  reasons  are  answered  by  the  excuse 
which  is  usual  where  no  other  remains.  Necessity ; 


245 

but  I  insist,  and  affirm,  that  in  the  present  case 
necessity  itself  is  no  excuse :  for  it  is  this  very 
remedy  which  creates  the  obligation  we  are  under 
to  have  recourse  to  it.  I  will  explain  myself. 
When  a  nation  is  once  engaged  in  a  perilous  situa- 
tion there  is  no  doubt  but  that  there  is  a  necessity 
for  it  to  make  the  greatest  efforts  to  free  itself  from 
it.  But  a  body  politic  does  not  naturally  find  itself 
placed  in  such  a  situation.  Always  some  anterior 
cause  has  brought  it  to  this.  Or  it  has  very  badly 
managed  its  internal  affairs ;  and  thereby  encourag- 
ed some  unquiet  neighbour  to  attack  it,  to  profit  by 
its  weakness  ;  or,  if  it  has  well  conducted  its  own 
affairs,  it  has  sought  to  avail  itself  of  it  to  meddle 
unreasonably  with  those  of  others  :  it  has  abused 
its  own  prosperity  to  trouble  that  of  others,  to  under- 
take too  great  enterprises,  to  raise  exaggerated 
pretensions ;  or  merely  to  assume  a  menacing  atti- 
tude, which  provokes  hostile  measures  and  produces 
hatred.  These  are,  in  effect,  the  faults  which  com- 
monly bring  on  the  necessity  of  making  excessive 
efforts,  and  of  having  recourse  to  loans ;  and  if  it 
is  true  that  it  is  by  the  foolish  confidence  inspired 
by  this  pernicious  resource,  that  governments  have 
been  led  into  these  faults,  it  will  be  agreed  that 
the  credit  which  is  regarded  as  a  remedy  to  these 
evils  is  their  true  cause.  Now  history  teaches  us 
that  it  is  in  fact  since  governments  have  had  what  is 
called  credit,  that  is  to  say  the  possibility  of  em- 
ploying  in  an  instant  the  funds  of  several  years, 
that  they  have  no  longer  set  bounds  either  to  their 
prodigality,  or  their  ambition,  or  their  projects,  that 
they  have  augmented  their  armies,  multiplied  their 


intrigues,  and  that  they  have  adopted  that  intermed- 
dling policy  with  which   it  is  impossible  to  avoid 
war  or  enjoy  peace.     These  are  the  effects  of  this 
public  credit  which  is  regarded  as  so  great  a  good. 
But,  at  least,  is  it  useful  in  imminent  dangers?  No. 
There  is  no  imminent  danger  for  a  nation,  except 
a  sudden  invasion  of  its  territory.     In  this  extreme 
case  it  is  not  money  which  saves  it,  it  is  the  concourse 
of.  force,  it  is   the  union  of  wills.      Requisitions 
supply  necessaries,  levies  in  mass   furnish  men  ; 
loans  are  of  no  use.     The  end  answered  by  credit 
is  the  maintenance  of  distant  wars,  that  is  to  say 
their  prolongation.     It  also  fails  when  they  become 
disastrous  that  is  to  say  in  the  moment  of  necessity. 
Then  peace  is  made.      It  would  have  been  sooner 
made  if  the  government  had  not  had  credit,  or  rather 
there  would  have  heen  no  war.      And,  when  this 
tardy  and   forced  peace  is  signed,  it  is  perceived 
tint  of  all  the  losses  sustained,  that  most  to  be  re- 
gretted,  after  the  useless  sacrifice  of  men,  is  that  of 
the  sums  they  would  have  preserved  had  they  not 
had  the   unfortunate  .facility   of  borrowing   them. 
The  conqueror  himself  is  never  indemnified  by  his 
successes  for  the  sacrifices  they  have  cost  him,  and 
the  debts  with  which  he  remains  burdened.     From 
all  this  I  conclude  anew,  that  what  is  called  public 
credit,  is  the  poison  which  rapidly  enough  destroys 
modern  governments. 

I  will  not,  however,  advise  a  law  which  should 
forbid  a  government  ever  to  borrow,  and  the  govern- 
ed ever  to  lend.  Such  a  law  would  be  absurd  and 
useless  : — absurd — for  it  would  be  founded,  like 
the  evil  which  it  is  meant^  to  destroy,  on  thi£  false 


principle :  that  the  actual  legislative  power  can 
bind  the  legislative  power  of  futurity : — useless 
because  the  first  thing  that  would  be  done  by  those 
who,  in  the  sequel,  should  wish  to  borrow  would 
be  to  abolish  the  law  which  forbids  them ;  and  thus 
would  have  a  right  to  do  it.  1  should  wish  then 
quite  a  different  course  to  be  pursued.  I  should 
wish  them,  on  the  contrary,  to  recognise  and  pro- 
claim this  principle  of  eternal  truth  :  that  whatsoever 
is  decreed  by  any  legislature  whatsoever,  their  suc- 
cessors can  always  modify,  change,  annul ;  and 
that  it  should  be  solemnly  declared,  that  in  future 
this  salutary  principle  shall  be  applied,  as  if  ought 
to  be,  to  the  engagements  which  a  government  may 
make  with  money  lenders.  By  this  the  evil  would 
be  destroyed  in  its  root :  for  capitalists,  having  no 
longer  any  guarantee,  would  no  longer  lend  ;  many 
misfortunes  would  be  prevented,  and  this  would 
be  a  new  proof  that  the  evils  of  humanity  proceed 
always  from  some  error,  and  that  truth  cures  them. 
It  is  by  this  wish  that  I  will  terminate  what  I  had 
to  say  of  the  revenues  and  expenses  of  government, 
and  that  I  will  finish  this  first  part  of  the  treatise 
on  the  will.  Only,  before  passing  to  the  second  I 
will  yet  present  to  the  reader  some  reflexions  on 
what  we  have  so  far  seen. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Conclusion. 

WE  are  now  arrived  at  a  remarkable  point  on 
the  road  over  which  1  had  proposed  to  travel.  I 
ask  permission  to  stop  here  for  a  moment.  1  will 
again  repeat  to  the  reader,  that  what  he  has  just 
read  is  not  properly  a  treatise  on  political  economy. 
It  is  the  first  part  of  a  treatise  on  the  will,  which 
ought  to  have  two  other  parts ;  and  which  is  itself 
but  the  sequel  of  a  treatise  on  the  understanding. 
.Every  thing  here  then  ought  to  be  co-ordinate  with 
what  precedes,  and  what  will  follow.  Thus  it 
ought  not  to  excite  surprize  that  I  have  not  entered 
into  the  details  of  political  economy ;  but  it  should 
have  done  so  if  I  had  not  ascended  to  the  origin  of 
our  wants  and  of  our  means,  if  I  had  not  endea- 
voured to  show  how  these  wants  and  means  arise 
from  our  faculty  of  willing,  and  if  I  had  neglected 
to  point  out  the  relations  of  our  physical  with  our 
moral  wants. 

It  is  that  I  may  not  merit  these  reproaches  that 
I  have  commenced  by  a  very  general  introduction, 
which  no  more  belongs  to  economy  than  to  morality 
or  to  legislation ;  but  in  which  I  have  endeavoured 
dearly  to  explain  what  are  the  ideas  for  which  we  are 
indebted  to  our  faculty  of  willing,  and  without  which 
these  three  sciences  would  not  exist  for  us.  I  shall 
be  told  that  this  introduction  is  too  metaphysical.  J 
answer  that  it  conld  not  be  otherwise,  and  that  it  is 


precisely  because  it  is  very  metaphysical  that  there 
is  no  bud  metaphysics  in  the  rest  of  the  work.  For 
nothing  can  so  effectually  preserve  us  from  sophisms 
and  illusions,  as  to  begin  by  well  elucidating  the 
principal  ideas.  We  have  not  been  long  without 
proofs  of  this. 

In  fact  after  having  well  observed  the  manner 
in  which  we  know  our  wants,  our  original  weakness, 
and  our  propensity  to  sympathy,  we  were  no  longer 
in  any  doubt  on  the  nature  of  society.  We  have 
seen  clearly  that  it  is  our  natural  and  necessary  state, 
that  it  is  founded  on  personality  and  property,  that 
it  consists  in  conventions,  that  these  conventions 
are  all  exchanges,  that  the  essence  of  exchange 
consists  in  being  useful  to  both  the  contracting  par- 
ties,  snd  that  the  general  advantages  of  exchanges 
(which  constitute  the  social  state)  are  to  produce  a 
concurrence  of  force,  the  increase  and  preservation 
of  knowledge,  and  the  division  of  labour. 

After  having  examined  in  like  manner  our  means 
of  providing  Por  our  wants,  we  have  also  seen  that 
our  individual  force  is  our  only  primitive  riches ; 
that  the  employment  of  this  force,  our  labour,  has 
a  necessary  value,  which  is  the  only  cause  of  all 
the  other  values ;  that  all  our  industry  consists  in 
fabrication  and  transportation ;  and  that  the  effect 
of  this  industry  is  always  and  solely  to  add  a  degree 
of  utility  to  the  things  on  which  it  is  exercised, 
and  to  furnish  objects  of  consumption  and  means 
of  existence. 

Ascending  always  to  the  observation  of  our  facul- 
ties, since  personality  and  property  are  necessary  it 
is  evident  that  inequality  is  inevitable.  But  it  is 


an  evil.     We  have  seen  what  are  the  causes  of  its 
exaggerated   increase,  and   what  its  fatal  effects. 

These  have  explained  to  us  in  a  very  precise 
manner  what  has  commonly  been  said  very  vaguely 
of  the  different  states  through  which  the  same  peo- 
ple successively  pass. 

Since  we  all  have  means,  we  are  all  proprietors; 
since  we  all  have  wants,  we  are  all  consumers. 
These  two  great  interests  always  re- unite  us. 
But  we  are  naturally  unequal ;  from  whence  it 
happens,  in  process  of  time,  that  some  have  pro- 
perty in  advance,  and  many  others  have  not, 
These  latter  can  only  live  on  the  funds  of  the  for- 
mer. From  thence  two  great  classes  of  men,  the 
hired  and  the  hirers,  opposed  in  interest  in  the 
respect,  that  the  one  selling  their  labor  wishes  to 
sell  dear,  and  the  other  buying  it  wishes  to  buy 
cheap. 

Aikiongst  those  who  buy  labour,  some  (the  idle 
rich)  employ  it  only  in  their  personal  satisfaction; 
its  value  is  destroyed.  The  others  (these  are  the 
undertakers  of  industry)  employ  it  in  a  useful  man- 
ner, which  reproduces  what  it  has  cost.  These 
alone  preserve  and  increase  the  riches  already  ac- 
quired ;  these  alone  furnish  to  the  other  capitalists 
the  revenues  which  they  consume,  since  doing  no- 
thing, they  can  derive  no  benefit  from  their  capitals, 
whether  movcable  or  iinmoveable,  but  by  hiring 
them  to  industrious  men  in  consideration  of  a  rent, 
which  the  latter  pay  out  of  their  profits.  The 
more  the  industry  of  the  latter  is  perfected  the  more 
our  means  of  existence  are  augmented. 

In  fine,  we  have  remarked  that  the  fecundity  of 


the  human  species  is  such,  that  the  number  of  men 
is  always  proportionate  to  their  means  of  existence ; 
and  that  wheresoever  this  number  does  not  continu- 
ally and  rapidly  augment,  it  is  because  many  indi- 
viduals daily  perish  for  want  of  the  means  of  life. 

Such  are  the  principal  truths  which  follow  so  im- 
mediately from  the  observation  of  our  faculties,  that 
it  is  impossible  to  dispute  them.  They  lead  us  to 
consequences  no  less  certain. 

After  having  seen  what  society  is,  it  is  impossible 
not  to  reject  the  idea  of  foregoing  it  absolutely,  or  of 
founding  it  on  an  entire  'renunciation  of  one's  self, 
and  on  a  chimerical  equality. 

After  having  well  unraveled  the  effects  of  our  in- 
dustry, it  is  impossible  not  to  see  that  there  is  no- 
thing more  mysterious  in  agricultural  industry  than 
in  any  other,  but  we  discover  the  inconveniences 
which  are  proper  to  it,  and  which  are  fhe  cause  of 
the  different  forms  which  it  takes  according  to  times 
and  places. 

When  we  have  recognized  the  necessary  cause  of 
all  values,  we  must  conclude  that  it  is  absurd  to  pre- 
tend that  money  is  but  a  sign  ;  and  odious  to  un- 
dertake to  give  it  an  arbitrary  value,  or  forcibly  to 
replace  it  by  an  imaginary  value ;  and  that  every 
establishment  which  tends  towards  this  end  is  dan- 
gerous and  pernicious. 

When  we  have  seen  how  the  formation  of  our 
riches  is  operated  and  their  continual  renovation, 
which  we  call  circulation,  we  necessarily  see  that 
consumption  in  itself  can  never  be  useful,  and  that 
the  exaggerated  consumption,  called  luxury,  is  al- 
ways hurtful  :  and  we  cannot  otherwise  than  find  re- 


253 

diculous,  the  importance  ascribed  to  men  wlio  have 
no  other  merit  but  of  being  consumers,  as  if  that 
were  a  very  rare  talent. 

Just  views  of  consumption  give  necessarily  just 
ideas  on  that  greatest  of  consumers,  government ; 
on  the  effects  of  its  expenses,  its  debts,  and  the  dif- 
ferent imposts  which  compose  its  revenues,  and  lead 
us  clearly  to  trace  the  different  reflections  of  these 
assessments,  and  to  estimate  the  greater  or  less  evil 
they  do,  according  to  the  different  classes  of  men  on 
Which  they  fall. 

All  these  consequences  are  rigorous.  They 
will  not  be  the  less  contested.  It  was  necessary 
then,  to  arrive  at  them  methodically.  Eut  those 
above  all,  which  will  experience  the  greatest  opposi- 
tion, are  what  lead  us  to  determine  the  degrees  of 
importance  of  the  different  classes  of  society.  How 
persuade  fche  great  rural  proprietors,  so  much  cried 
up,  that  they  are  but  lenders  of  money,  burdensome 
to  agriculture  and  strangers  to  all  its  interests? 
How  convince  these  idle  rich,  so  much  respected, 
that  they  are  absolutely  good  for  nothing;  and  that 
their'  existence  is  an  evil,  inasmuch  as  it  diminishes 
the  number  of  useful  labourers  ?  How  obtain  ac- 
knowledgement from  all  those  who  hire  labour, 
that  the  clearness  of  workmanship  is  a  desirable 
thing;  ?nd  that,  in  general,  all  the  true  interests  of 
the  poor  ?:re  exactly  the  same  as  the  true  interest  of 
the  whole  society.  It  is  not  merely  their  interests, 
well  or  ill  understood,  which  oppose  these  truths,  it 
is  their  passion  ;  and  among  these  passions,  the 
most  violent  and  antisocial  of  all,  vanity.  "With 
them  demonstration,  or  at  least  conviction  is  no 


longer  possible ;  for  the  passions  know  how  to  ob- 
scure and  entangle  everything;  and  it  is  with  as 
much  reason  as  ingenuity,  that  Hobbes  has  s:id, 
that  if  men  had  a  lively  desire  not  to  believe  that  two 
and  two  fnake  four,  they  would  have  succeeded  in 
rendering  this  truth  doubtful/;  we  might  produce 
proofs  of  it. 

On  many  occasions,  then,  it  is  still  more  difficult 
to  conciliate  to  truth  than  to  discover  it.  This  ob- 
servation discovers  to  us  a  new  relation  between  the 
subject  we  have  treated  of,  and  that  which  is  next 
to  occupy  us,  between  the  study  of  our  actions  and 
that  of  our  sentiments.  We  have  perceived,  and 
said,  that  we  should  know  well  the  consequences 
of  our  actions,  to  appreciate  justly,  the  merit  or  de- 
merit of  the  sentiments  which  urse  us  to  this  or 

O 

that  action ;  and  now  we  see  that  it  is  necessary  to 
analyze  our  sentiments  themselves,  submit  them  to 
a  rigorous  examination,  distinguish  those  which  be- 
ing founded  on  just  judgments  always  direct  us 
well,  and  those  which  having  their  source  in  illu- 
sions, and  rising  from  the  obliquities  of  our  minds, 
cannot  fail  to  lead  us  astray  and  form  within  us  a 
false  and  blind  conscience,  which  always  removes 
us  further  from  the  road  of  reason,  the  only  one  lead- 
ing  to  happiness.  This  is  what  we  shall  next  in- 
vestigate, and  if  we  have  well  exposed  the  results  of 
the  actions  of  men,  and  the  effects  of  their  passions, 
it  seems  that  it  will  be  easy  to  indicate  the  rules 
which  they  ought  to  prescribe  to  themselves.  Tins 
would  be  the  true  spirit  of  laws  and  the  best  conclu- 
sion of  a  treatise  on  the  will. 


**X*3JF 


